


Truth, Justice, and the Lantean Way

by kisahawklin



Series: Getting old in the Pegasus galaxy [6]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alien Culture, Author's Favorite, Awkward Sexual Situations, Bondage, Discovery, M/M, Questioning, Sexual Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-10
Updated: 2011-09-10
Packaged: 2017-10-23 14:34:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 67,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/251404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kisahawklin/pseuds/kisahawklin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"I want to sue Sheppard for cockblocking."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Justice

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Trial sketch](https://archiveofourown.org/works/251778) by [strivaria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/strivaria/pseuds/strivaria). 
  * Inspired by [Art and Fanmix for "Truth, Justice, and the Lantean Way"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/251793) by [gblvr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gblvr/pseuds/gblvr). 
  * Inspired by [Art for kisahawklin's "Truth, Justice, and the Lantean Way"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/251466) by [omg_wtf_yeah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/omg_wtf_yeah/pseuds/omg_wtf_yeah). 



> Thank you to my amazing artists, [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/strivaria/profile)[**strivaria**](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/strivaria/) , [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/gblvr/profile)[**gblvr**](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/gblvr/) , and [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/omg_wtf_yeah/profile)[**omg_wtf_yeah**](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/omg_wtf_yeah/) for blessing me with such tremendous gifts.
> 
> Secondary explicit onscreen pairings include: John/OMC. Background pairings include: Lorne/Zelenka, Teyla/Kanaan, Ronon/Amelia, Woolsey/OFC, Chuck/OFC. Mentions of: Rodney/Lorne, Rodney/OMC, Rodney/OFC, previous Rodney/Jennifer.

  
[ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/251778) |  [ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/251793) |  [ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/251466)  
---|---|---  
Art by [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/strivaria/profile)[**strivaria**](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/strivaria/) |  Art and fanmix by [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/gblvr/profile)[**gblvr**](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/gblvr/) |  Art by [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/omg_wtf_yeah/profile)[**omg_wtf_yeah**](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/omg_wtf_yeah/)  
  
+++++

Richard gets the call at twenty six thirty, a double chirp of his radio on the nightstand. He likes to be available to his people, but it's late, and he's usually in his office at oh six hundred, so this is now cutting into his beauty rest.

"Yes?"

 _"Mr. Woolsey,"_ McKay's voice comes over the line, slightly slurred, but cutting in the way it is when he's fed up with someone.

"Dr. McKay," Richard replies. "It's very late, can't this wait until morning?"

 _"No. I am sick of this, I want justice."_

Richard sighs. "About what?"

 _"I want to sue Sheppard for cockblocking."_ Richard can hear Colonel Sheppard's half-drunken laugh in the background. Clearly, they’re still at the celebration party in the mess. He knew it would go late, but he had thought his personnel were mature enough not to engage in crank calls.

"This is not amusing," Richard says, and clicks his radio over to the admin only channel. McKay could still call him on the admin channel, but he wouldn't dare. At least, Richard likes to think some things are still sacred, and emergency channels had better be one of them.

+++++

Oh six hundred arrives and Richard is at his desk, going over the new personnel files. They took on over five hundred new staff when they came back to the Pegasus galaxy, mostly military, but a large chunk of new scientists and other staff as well. He's set to have lunch with the new Chief Medical Officer at eleven hundred, and he's not sure he's going to make it without a snack. His boiled egg and english muffin breakfast of an hour ago feels very far away.

Shouting outside his office makes him look up just as Dr. McKay walks in, looking perfectly well for someone who had too much to drink and went to bed less than seven hours ago.

Colonel Sheppard trails him, looking exasperated and tired, and a little hung over too. It's good to see someone looking as tired as Richard feels. "Rodney," Sheppard says. "It was a _joke_ , let it go."

"It's not a joke, Colonel, and I've had it. I'm suing you for damages."

"Damages! Rodney!" Sheppard turns his pleading look on Richard. "Mr. Woolsey, please, you must see that this is ridiculous."

"Sit," Richard says, and they take the chairs in front of his desk, Sheppard slouching like a rebellious teenager and McKay sitting on the edge of his, tablet in hand. "Now what is the problem?"

"Sheppard has been cockblocking me since the day we met. I've only recently realized exactly how much sex it's cost me." He puts the tablet on Richard's desk and it shows a bar graph by years that he and Sheppard have known each other. The total number of incidents is sixteen, spread over the years, more in the early years, fewer in the years spanning the relationship he had with Dr. Keller. This year's count is one. He assumes from the party last night.

"Sixteen sexual encounters," Richard says. "You want to sue Colonel Sheppard for sixteen sexual encounters."

"Yes," McKay says seriously, and Sheppard's mouth drops open and works like a fish.

"You cannot be taking this seriously! I was not cockblocking Rodney – well, except last night. But that was a _joke_! Mr. Woolsey, please, this is a farce."

Richard takes a deep breath. He knows Sheppard and McKay are friends as well as colleagues, but watching McKay's body language tells him he was genuinely hurt at the colonel's behavior. This thorough examination of the facts is likely the result of over-analysis on his part for a single wrong done when the other party was drunk.

On the other hand, Sheppard really does seem to believe this is ridiculous, and while he may currently be regretting his behavior last night, he clearly _doesn't_ believe he's ever caused romantic trouble for McKay, and Richard knows the mission reports tell another story. Teyla's take on mission situations most definitely indicate Colonel Sheppard purposely tried to keep Dr. McKay from romantic contact with the locals. He mostly refrained from romantic encounters himself, if Richard was reading between the lines correctly, so perhaps he was trying to keep McKay within good diplomatic boundaries without having to reprimand him. The dynamic is certainly an interesting one, and bears further scrutiny.

"Woolsey?" Sheppard asks. "You're not really considering this, are you?"

"Actually, Colonel Sheppard, I think it is a fair suit. And I am willing to entertain it."

"But it was a _joke_!"

"Not a very funny one," McKay mutters darkly. He looks at Richard and says, "We need an impartial judge – someone that doesn't like Sheppard better than me."

Sheppard grins wickedly, like he knows what a chore it will be for Richard to find someone McKay hasn't antagonized. Richard likes John; they even spend some off hours time together, having the same tastes in cigars and wine, but he has been in McKay's predicament, and he understands that Sheppard may not appreciate the reasoning, and the hurt feelings, behind McKay's suit.

"May I suggest we ask someone not from Atlantis?" Richard says. "Surely of our allies, there is someone not partial to Colonel Sheppard."

Dr. McKay snaps his fingers and his eyes light up. "Yes! Queen Harmony!"

Sheppard's face falls so fast it's comical. The reality of the situation must have finally hit him. "She's a little girl!" he protests. "You're not really going to talk to her about cockblocking!"

"She's seventeen," McKay argues, "and I'm sure she understands my situation perfectly well."

There have been rumors of Princess Flora discouraging Queen Harmony's suitors; McKay couldn't have picked anyone more likely to be partial to his case.

"This is a waste of time and resources," Sheppard tries, and Richard has to admit he appreciates the colonel's ability to consider a problem from multiple angles. In this particular case, however, he's pretty sure Sheppard is wrong. Having some sort of system in place to handle personnel issues is a good idea; inviting allies to Atlantis is a good idea; having two senior staff be the first to test the system is a good idea; the case being one rather small and with minimal possible damages to be awarded is a good idea.

"On the contrary, Colonel, I think this will set a healthy precedent for the new personnel. I will send an invitation to Queen Harmony this afternoon. This won't be a formal trial, but you will both have to agree to abide by the outcome. If you don't agree," Richard puts a finger to forestall the protest Colonel Sheppard's already opening his mouth to lodge, "we will put in the formal motions to do this in small claims court on Earth. No wormhole trips – you would go together on the _Daedalus_ to file the paperwork and again for the trial itself."

Sheppard closes his mouth and looks petulant. McKay looks triumphant.

"You may each have counsel," Richard says, and before he can even mention that they don't have to be lawyers, Sheppard's eyes light up and he says, "Dibs on Woolsey!"

"Excuse me," Richard says. "I have a rather steep retainer."

"I have a bottle of 1982 Château Haut Brion," Sheppard says.

"Very well," Richard answers, already making plans for the bottle. "You have engaged my services. Doctor, please arrange for counsel and let me know who it will –"

"Teyla."

Sheppard closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. Richard has to agree, the chances of him getting out of this unscathed are getting slimmer and slimmer.

"Excellent," Richard says. "I will send the request to Queen Harmony and apprise you of the date when it is set. If there's nothing else?"

McKay is grinning almost malevolently, and Richard has a slight twinge of nerves. Sheppard waves his hand carelessly, still not opening his eyes.

"Then I will see you this afternoon for senior staff meeting. I trust you will have both introduced yourself to Dr. Choi and Dr. Schulze by then?"

That gets the pair of them out of their chairs and his office. Richard breathes a sigh of relief and turns to his writing desk.

+++++

Dr. Schulze is a tall, blonde German woman, and she favors square-cut heels. She towers over Richard at six foot one with her heels on, but he's used to it by now. He smiles at her warmly and shakes her hand.

"Thank you for taking the time to see me," Richard says, ushering her into his quarters. "I know you are trying to get your infirmary in order before we have a medical emergency."

"First of all, I was going to suggest we change the name to hospital. It is well-equipped and staffed, and calling it an infirmary is insulting to the extremely well-trained personnel who work there."

"Oh, of course," Richard says. He hadn't even thought on the matter. "I’ll make note of it in the weekly Atlantis-wide memo. Perhaps we could have a feature on the entire medical department? This will be the first time we expect personnel to keep up with their general health and not use it simply as an emergency center."

"That would be excellent," Dr. Schulze says. "We have taken over the two floors above the hospital for a clinic – we have several nurse practitioners and physician's assistants for routine medical care, as well as a number of specialists in non-urgent specialties, dermatology, endocrinology, et cetera."

"Excellent," Richard says, pleased with how well Dr. Schulze has so thoroughly considered the needs of the expedition. "What else should I know?"

"I would like to move the gyms down to the area by the pools and install the physical therapists in that area. The expedition is large enough that having designated areas for exercise equipment is a good idea, and physical therapy will seem less like a punishment if other expedition members are in the area doing their regular workout routines."

Richard smiles and jots down shorthand notes on the pad next to his salad plate. "I most definitely agree," he says. "Is there more?"

She nods. "I have many ideas, but, of course, it depends on how the war goes; I understand the Wraith have nearly fought themselves into extinction, so perhaps we will be lucky and all my pie-in-the-sky dreams will become possible."

"We can only hope," Richard says sincerely, setting his salad fork on his plate. "Let's save pie-in-the-sky for later. I think you may find you have a struggle on your hands with the gym. For a bunch of intergalactic explorers, they don't like change very much." Richard eases back his chair and takes their plates to the counter of his kitchenette, uncovering the main course and bringing it to the table before refreshing Dr. Schulze's water glass. "Are you certain I can't interest you in a glass of pinot grigio?"

"Oh no." Dr. Schulze laughs. "I don't indulge much and I had more than enough last night."

"You attended the party," Richard says, pleased. "I hope it was a nice welcome to the Pegasus galaxy."

Dr. Schulze laughs some more, politely hiding her mouth behind her hand. "It was quite enjoyable. I am looking forward to the senior staff meeting this afternoon."

"Oh no," Richard says, with a flash of understanding. "You are the woman Dr. McKay and Colonel Sheppard were –"

"Yes," Dr. Schulze says, slapping her thigh and belly laughing. "Oh, how they tried to outdo each other. I have not had such ardent pursuit in years."

"I see," Richard says, his heart sinking. "And were either of them aware you are Chief Medical Officer?"

She shrugs delicately. "I tried to introduce myself to Dr. McKay once I'd been appointed, but he avoided my emails. I understand he was involved with Dr. Keller?"

Richard nods.

"Yes, well, we never did get introduced, and for someone whose file includes the word hypochondriac as often as Dr. McKay's, I haven't seen hide nor hair of him. He got his physical done at the SGC before we left and had the records emailed to me."

"And Colonel Sheppard?"

"He seems even less inclined toward medical care, routine or otherwise. We've emailed a few times, but I've not been able to pin him down for a time to meet, and I’ve been a little busy with inventory and cataloging. Administrativia is not my favorite part of being head of a department, but I am quite good at it."

"So I have heard," Richard says, thoughtful. He cuts into his cornish hen, cooked perfectly by chef Senior Airman Angel Garcia, one of his personnel coups. Attention to detail is one of his favorite qualities. "So tell me about your pie-in-the-sky ideas, Dr. Schulze."

+++++

Shortly before the senior staff meeting, Mr. Woolsey calls Major Lorne to his office and hands him a letter. "Please deliver this to Queen Harmony. You do not have to wait for an answer, but make sure she's read and understands it before you leave."

"Yes sir," Major Lorne says. "Just me and Sergeant Mukherjee, or the whole team?"

"The two of you should be fine. We don't want to send too many people and risk worrying the queen."

"Right, we'll be ready to go in fifteen."

"Thank you, Major."

+++++

By the time Richard gets into the conference room, the entire table is filled and the staff is fidgeting with their paperwork and water glasses. Colonel Sheppard and Dr. McKay are looking sulky and upset respectively, and Dr. Schulze is smiling brightly. "Good afternoon," Mr. Woolsey says, sitting down. "I know this has been a rather impromptu meeting in the past, but we will be making them formal, weekly meetings from now on. We have a lot of procedures to discuss, and I would like to put together our rules and regulations in writing, to have them available for all personnel."

"You know we're at war, right?" Colonel Sheppard asks, flipping idly through the packet of papers in front of him. "We've got a few more important things to do than worry about this sort of…" He waves a hand broadly, "…busywork."

"On the contrary," Dr. Schulze disagrees, and Colonel Sheppard visibly shifts in his seat. "I find having routines and familiarity helps the personnel to adjust quickly to new situations and makes them more valuable when a crisis occurs."

"I agree," Richard says. "And, to be honest, I'm an optimist. This is the groundwork for much bigger plans after the war is over."

There are only a few points on his agenda today, and they get through them fairly quickly by virtue of the fact that Colonel Sheppard doesn't seem to have much to say on behalf of the military contingent.

"I suggest we invite Staff Sergeant Wagner and Major Lorne to attend the senior staff meetings," Richard says as his next order of business. "The military personnel need more representation."

Colonel Sheppard seems taken aback by the suggestion for a second, but jumps on it eagerly, no doubt thinking it will mean he will have less work to do. "Definitely,” he says. “I think that's a great idea."

There's a knock on the door and Richard turns to look at it in surprise. "Yes?" he asks.

The door opens a couple of inches and Major Lorne's voice comes through the crack. "Mr. Woolsey, can we see you for a minute?"

"Can it wait?" Richard says. "We're nearly done here."

Major Lorne throws open the door in response, and Richard fumbles himself to his feet in surprise. "Queen Harmony! This is a pleasant surprise. We weren't expecting you so soon."

"When I heard Dr. McKay needed my services, of course I came right away," Queen Harmony answers. "I would not make him wait unless it could not be helped. Besides, it is a slow time at the court. Spring planting keeps the people busy and there is rarely anything that needs my attention when my people are so occupied."

"Very well," Richard says. "We will be happy to have you as our guest. The trial will take some small time to get ready; can you stay with us for the night? We should be able to begin first thing in the morning."

"Certainly," she says, her eyes mischievous. "And Dr. McKay may take me on a tour of your lovely city."

"Respectfully," Richard says to head off Sheppard’s inevitable protests, "Dr. McKay will need to prepare with his counsel. Can we offer another escort? Major Lorne or Sergeant Mukherjee, perhaps?"

Major Lorne shoots him the briefest of glances, but Sergeant Mukherjee smiles. "I would love to, your highness, if you would have me as your guide."

"I suppose, if my Dr. McKay is unavailable," Queen Harmony says haughtily.

Sergeant Mukherjee's smile doesn't waver. "Excellent. Let's start with the gateroom so we can have Chuck assign you some quarters for the night." She ushers Queen Harmony away and Richard breathes a sigh of relief.

"Meeting adjourned," he says, looking at Sheppard meaningfully. "Please make plans to attend the trial tomorrow morning. This will be a test case for internal conflict resolution; if it works, we'll have the basic structure for a system in place."

Most of the senior staff look slightly confused but nod and take their leave. McKay hurries over to Teyla and they exit the room together.

"Well, Colonel Sheppard," Richard says, "It's time to go get that bottle of Château Haut Brion."

+++++

They meet in Richard's quarters after dinner. He takes the expensive bottle from John and puts it away in his wine cooler. He'd stocked it completely before they left, so he pulls out a bottle of 2005 Mas de Can Blau and places the Haut Brion in its spot.

"Here," he says, handing the bottle to Sheppard. "I think we're going to need this."

The colonel opens the bottle and decants it into crystal while Richard pulls out some dark chocolate chili truffles he found at a chocolaterie hidden away on a Manhattan side street and the leftover camembert from his splurge last night.

Richard takes a seat on his sofa and Sheppard sits in the leather wingback on his left, blowing out a deep breath. "I have no idea why Rodney is doing this."

"Colonel," Richard says. It feels strange not to be calling him John while they share wine and cheese, but he's the colonel's counsel here, not his friend. "You could have avoided all this with a well-timed apology."

"But it was a _joke_ ," Sheppard says. "Rodney used to have a sense of humor."

"Rodney used to have a fiancée," Richard answers. "And it's only been a few months so it's probably a sore point."

"So I'm supposed to let him embarrass himself in front of the Amazonian blonde woman who could break him in half? I was trying to protect him."

Richard shakes his head. "It's one thing for Dr. Schulze to tell him she's not interested; quite another for you to tell him he's not worthy."

"That's not what I was saying!" Sheppard gets up and starts to pace. "Is that what Rodney thinks I was saying?"

Richard shrugs and reaches for the decanter. "I don't know what Dr. McKay is thinking. I doubt if anyone knows what he's thinking most of the time."

"So," Colonel Sheppard says, coming back over to accept the wine and sit. "How do I defend against accusations of being an asshole?"

Richard smiles to himself and spreads some camembert on a rice cracker. "By explaining why you did it, truthfully."

"I _didn't_ do it. I've never purposely gotten in Rodney's way until last night, and that was because I couldn't watch him embarrass himself anymore. She was laughing at him."

"Actually," Richard says, spreading cheese on another cracker and handing it to the colonel, "Dr. Schulze was enjoying his company. I don't think she is romantically interested, but she does seem to find him amusing."

Sheppard looks miserable as he munches on his cracker and takes a sip of wine.

"And let's talk about the other instances Dr. McKay is accusing you of. Norina, on Taranis."

"What?" John sets his wine glass down and slumps in the chair. "That wasn't my fault. He was the one hiding under a console during an earthquake. I was protecting her."

"I've read those reports. Perhaps you don't remember saying anything, but Dr. McKay has a remarkable memory, especially when it comes to insults to his person."

"Saying what? We were probably just kidding around."

Richard sighs. "Colonel."

Sheppard looks up at him, guilty. "I wasn't doing anything on purpose. I don't even remember most of the missions he's talking about. It wasn't anything serious."

"Well, I suggest you find a better defense of your actions," Richard warns. "You may not be taking this seriously, but Dr. McKay is, and he is likely to throw your words back in your face at the trial."

"Can't you stop this?" Sheppard whined. "Why did you agree to it in the first place?"

"Currently Atlantis doesn't have a system for dispute resolution in place, which, if we want to avoid sending people home all the time, we need to have." Richard smiles and refills Sheppard's glass. "Frankly, I think Dr. McKay's suit is perfect for a trial run. You're friends, your friendship isn't likely to be harmed by the ruling, and it will show people that there is a way to deal with ordinary interpersonal conflicts that come up."

Sheppard groans. "This is a lost cause, isn't it? There's no way I can win this."

"It will be an uphill battle, for certain. But you have bought yourself the finest attorney in the Pegasus galaxy, so let's get to work on your defense."

+++++

Richard originally planned to have the trial in the mess, but when the rumor mill tells him most of the expedition's seven hundred personnel are planning on attending, he has to make a last-minute change. A quick check of the database finds one of the largest rooms in Atlantis, an auditorium capable of holding several thousand people and engineered so the acoustics allow all voices to carry over the assembled crowd. He has Major Lorne assemble some marines to move the equipment they need to the auditorium and makes the citywide announcement, sending out directions to the auditorium via email.

Dr. McKay and Teyla are already present in the auditorium, Teyla waiting patiently for their table and chairs to be set up, McKay pacing. Ronon is seated on one of the carved steps, a few rows up and dead center between Sheppard and McKay. Diplomatic. Richard still is on uneven footing with Ronon. The longer he knows the man, the more surprises there are to be had.

Sheppard is nowhere to be seen, but if Richard knows him at all, and he likes to think he does, he'll be the last person into the courtroom. Expedition members are trickling in now, filling in the first few rows of the auditorium around Specialist Dex. Major Lorne sits directly behind Colonel Sheppard's table – a smart show of support – and Dr. Zelenka and several other scientists take seats behind Dr. McKay. Beyond the first row, the clear side-taking tapers off as military and civilians mix and sit anywhere, chattering as animatedly as they do at movie nights.

Sergeant Mukherjee ushers Queen Harmony in and sits behind her, pointing to several things on a tablet, probably explaining how this is going to work. Richard's pleased to see how seamlessly she's stepped in to help; he’ll have to thank her afterward. When she stops moving and sits back, Queen Harmony looks up and takes in the crowd.

"We are here to settle a disagreement between Dr. McKay and Colonel Sheppard," she says. "I will hear a statement from Dr. McKay first."

"Thank you, Queen Harmony," McKay says, leaning forward on the table. "As you may know, Colonel Sheppard is in the habit of getting in the way when I am trying to romance women, to the detriment of my sex life."

Sheppard snorts loudly and Queen Harmony narrows her eyes at him. Richard squeezes his arm and pulls him in to whisper, "Stop with the dismissive attitude, Colonel. You're only going to anger your judge."

McKay has gone on to start listing the occasions when Colonel Sheppard purposely prevented him from getting involved with a woman, either with cutting remarks about his person or stepping in and romancing her himself. Richard is satisfied that some of the occasions are arguable and it was McKay's own lack of finesse that was the problem, but there are ten solid cases of Colonel Sheppard stepping in some manner, and while they've worked on a couple lines of defense, he doesn't honestly think they'll be able to get the entire suit dismissed. It has too much merit.

After McKay's listed all of the cases, Queen Harmony puts up a hand to silence him. He sits back, showing patience Richard would not have thought him capable of.

"Colonel John Sheppard," she says. "What do you have to say in response to the charges brought against you?"

Richard puts a hand on Colonel Sheppard's arm to encourage him, and hopefully to remind him of the possible defenses they went over last night.

"Well, your highness," Colonel Sheppard says, and Richard is mortified to hear a sarcastic drawl in his voice. "I would prefer to have settled this outside these proceedings, but as I wasn't given the chance," he looks askance at McKay, "I will only say this: I was looking out for Dr. McKay and Atlantis's best interests when I got involved. It's not good diplomacy to have, ah..." He stops and looks at Queen Harmony – a beautiful young woman at seventeen, but still clearly a very young woman. "Well, it's not a good idea to romance people you're only interested in short-term relationships with amongst your allies."

"Oh, you mean like you did with Princess Flora," Queen Harmony says. "For example."

"Hey," Colonel Sheppard says feelingly. "I was just being nice. Our peoples have a friendly relationship. I never put the moves on her."

"I see," Queen Harmony says. "So she made the advances and you didn't want to sacrifice our trade relationship by turning her down?"

Sheppard shifts in his chair, and Richard looks over at McKay. He and Teyla both look surprised, as if this was not something they were aware of.

Sheppard mumbles something under his breath that sounds like "Never see it coming," but he takes a deep breath and answers Queen Harmony. "Nothing happened between me and Princess Flora. She stopped by my room to chat and I sent her on her way."

McKay huffs in disbelief, and clearly Queen Harmony is not satisfied, but she seems ready to dismiss the line of questioning. "Well, on to the business at hand, then. We shall examine each of the instances on their own merit and I will make a ruling at the end. Dr. McKay, please present the first instance."

"Yes, thank you, your highness. The first instance was on M34-X62." Teyla leans over and whispers something into his ear. "I believe you know their world as Feltharen?"

"Ah yes," Queen Harmony says. "They are known for their weaving."

"Yes," McKay says, looking completely serious.

Richard knows that McKay can't keep any of the non-technological worlds straight. His names for worlds tend to be ZPM-world or possible-weapons-platform-planet or that-place-with-the-surprisingly-real-feeling-VR-environment. Anything without technological advancement is not on his radar. The cunning request for Teyla to be his counsel reminds Richard that Dr. McKay can think on his feet and should never be underestimated.

"She was rolling her eyes to her friends behind your back, Rodney," Sheppard is shouting across the table. "I couldn't stand to see her belittling you like that."

Sheppard slumps back in his chair belligerently and Richard pats his arm. His outburst does seem to affect McKay, who shares a look of disbelief with Queen Harmony. "That's a clear admission of guilt, so I'll go on to the next one."

In the end, only four of the incidents are dismissed. Queen Harmony looks over the list with Sergeant Mukherjee for a moment before leaning forward at her table to look at Colonel Sheppard.

"I think you are a petty and vindictive man, Colonel John Sheppard. I don't know why my Dr. McKay counts you among his friends if this is your behavior, but he does, so I will take that into consideration. For each of the twelve instances of disruptive behavior, you must provide Dr. McKay with a sexual encounter."

Richard had not foreseen damages of that sort being awarded – clearly neither had Dr. McKay, who had been looking smug at winning and now looks slightly terrified.

"What?!" Sheppard chokes out. "I have to buy him twelve prostitutes?"

"Of course not," Queen Harmony says, sniffing. "They must be willing encounters, of the sort he might have had if you had not interfered. He is a handsome and intelligent man. This should not be a difficult task."

"Oh, no, I'm sure it'll be a breeze," Colonel Sheppard mutters.

"You have gotten off lightly. There are worlds where interfering with mating rituals carries the penalty of death."

Richard swallows thickly and reminds himself to write that memo about appropriate off-world behavior, particularly in cases of negotiation and diplomatic relations.

He stands before Sheppard can dig his hole any deeper. "Thank you for your assistance, Queen Harmony. We appreciate your help in settling this dispute."

"You are quite welcome," she replies, and holds her hand out to McKay. "And now, my Dr. McKay, it is time for a tour of Atlantis before I must return to my people."

The room clears pretty quickly once McKay escorts her out. Sheppard stays slumped in his chair, though, and Teyla comes over to pat his shoulder. "I'm sorry, John. I couldn't refuse him."

"It's fine," Sheppard says, sounding defeated. "But if you know anybody who'd willingly have sex with him, you better let me know. You owe me that much."

"I will see if any of our young people might be interested," Teyla says. "He was quite well-received at the last teaching session on Athos."

Sheppard sighs deeply and stands up. "Thanks for your help," he says, offering his hand.

"Of course," Richard says, shaking Sheppard's hand. He stands and gathers up his papers. "Sorry we couldn't get you a better ruling."

Sheppard shrugs. "It's not the worst that could've happened in this kind of kangaroo court." He glances at Teyla and laughs. "Apparently."

 _Oh, I think justice has been served,_ Richard thinks, heading to his office to make a note in the official log.

+++++


	2. Truth

John decides to get it over with and corner Rodney at dinner. He waits in the mess until he sees Rodney walk in and stalks over to get in line behind him.

"Oh, ha, Colonel. Hi." Rodney picks up a tray and drums his fingers on it. "I wasn't expecting you."

"You should have been."

Rodney swallows. "I hadn't _really_ expected damages to be awarded!"

"Uh huh. That wasn't the whole reason you did this." John picks up a tray and grabs some chips and an apple. The marine waiting to serve tuna surprise is having a hard time keeping a smile off his face and John glares at him.

"No, it wasn't, and if you haven't figured that out then I guess the whole exercise was pointless." Rodney looks pissed.

"I thought..." John's not quite sure what he thought. He thought that Rodney'd been joking about John keeping too short a leash on him off-world; he believed it even after the radio call to Woolsey and right up until Woolsey started musing on Rodney's idea of a trial without a trace of irony. "Then what were you planning on getting out of it?"

"I just wanted to get you off my back! Some of us need to work a little harder at these things. We don't have your superficial charm and weirdly attractive hair." Rodney lifts his tray off the line and walks away, heading to a table at the back of the mess. John sighs and follows.

"I wasn't trying to prevent you from getting lucky," John says, plopping his tray down and grabbing the apple. His appetite is gone. "I couldn't watch you embarrass yourself."

"I wasn't embarrassing myself," Rodney says, tucking in and talking around the tuna surprise. John looks away. " _You_ were the one who was embarrassed. Believe it or not, sometimes it works. I'm hardly a blushing virgin, here."

John glances up again, now that Rodney's mouth is shut. "I'm not embarrassed! I was embarrassed _for_ you."

"And _that_ was the point of the exercise," Rodney says, taking another mouthful of tuna surprise, making John glance down at the table. "Don't be. And if you can't help yourself, then remove yourself from the situation. If I'm going to crash and burn, _fine_ , but I'd like to be given a chance. That's all I'm asking."

"Rodney," John says. He doesn't even know what he's protesting, exactly, except that it makes his guts twist to see the amusement on women's faces when Rodney's trying to impress them. "Wait a minute – every one of your situations was about a woman."

Rodney laughs. "Yeah, that's what convinced me you were straight. You never got involved when I flirted with guys because you didn't recognize it as flirting."

"Wait, so, have you..." John sets his apple down. "Have you gotten lucky with guys off-world?"

Rodney grins, and John rolls his eyes at himself. Of course he has.

"I didn't actually want to know that," John says, putting his head down on his arms. "Okay, so, I've got Teyla asking the Athosians if anyone is interested, and I'm willing to –"

"Oh god, you didn't!" Rodney says. "Tell me she hasn't gone to Athos yet."

"No," John says, looking up at Rodney, who looks genuinely distressed. "She was going to ask tomorrow when she was scheduled for a trip to Athos."

"Oh, good. I'll stop by and talk to her before she goes. Listen, John," Rodney says, and John sits up straight at the name drop. "You don't have to do this. It wasn't the missed sex I was going for."

John's not sure what to make of that. It's a binding arbitration. He supposes he and Rodney could say he'd made good, but he feels kind of bad now, finding out that Rodney's strange flirting does actually work from time to time. He probably has prevented Rodney from getting lucky at least once. "It's only fair," John says. "We've got all these new people. I'm sure I can find twelve people who'll be interested."

"It's... I mean. Yes, I've never turned down sex, but I'm not really looking for that sort of thing anymore." Rodney sets down his fork, his tuna surprise only half finished. "I thought I should get back on the horse after Jennifer."

John closes his eyes. They haven't talked about this, and he was hoping they wouldn't have to; he’d gotten about two sentences out of Rodney when he and Katie had broken up, and he had been assuming it would be the same with Jennifer. "I'm sorry about that, by the way. I know I should have said so before –"

"It's fine, I know you don't like her. It's no big deal."

"Wait," John protests. Where did Rodney get that idea? "I do too like Jennifer! Why would you think I don't like her?"

"Oh, you just seemed..." Rodney waves his hand dismissively. "Doesn't matter now, anyway. I know we're probably both better off and all the rest, but I miss her."

John takes in a deep breath. "I'm really sorry." He debates doing something to comfort Rodney, but he wouldn't have the slightest idea what that would be. They don't do _touching_. "So, let me set you up. Some no-strings sex should help get your mind off things."

"I don't think so. I can't really see how this will go. You'll, what, deliver people to my room and then we'll have extremely awkward sex?" Rodney shakes his head. "No, thanks, Sheppard, I think I'd rather not."

John can't believe he's arguing _for_ this idea. "C'mon, Rodney, at least _try_ here. What if I set you up on dates with extremely willing people?"

"Hmmm," Rodney says, nodding his head. "That does seem fair – it was the opportunity you interrupted, not the sex itself."

"Okay, so, I need to figure out what kind of dates to send you on. Private dinners in your quarters so your bed is close at hand?"

Rodney picks up his fork and starts eating again. "Subtle, Sheppard, but no. It has to be out and about. Movie night would work. Ooh, isn't the Athosian Spring Festival coming up?"

"Not for a couple months, but I take your point." John thinks about how to phrase his next question, but Rodney beats him to the punch.

"Maybe I should just date guys for a while," he says wistfully. "It never seems to crash and burn as bad as dating women."

"Like Lieutenant Anderson?" John asks, just to see Rodney's face.

"Damn," Rodney says, frowning unhappily. "I thought we'd kept that under the radar."

"You did," John says. He's a little hurt Rodney never told him, even if he knows why Rodney couldn't. "I got an anonymous email."

Rodney shifts, looking uncomfortable. "I'm sorry if it caused you any trouble."

"No trouble," John says. "Just tracked down who sent it and put them on the next _Daedalus_ home." He shrugs. He would've done it even if it hadn't been Rodney. "Why don't you go for a mix?" John suggests. "You always seem happier when you're with women."

"That's because I can be more open about it," Rodney says, and John winces.

"Well, that part of the uniform code's been repealed, so no more worries on that front, right?" He knows that's not exactly true, but he's been managing it this whole time, no reason to think anything will change on that front – except hopefully for the better.

"That's not the only concern and you know it," Rodney says, but then dismisses it. "But I might as well use this to shake things up around here. I made this whole thing a three-ring circus, best thing I can do is use it for some good."

"Still, no reason to box yourself in," John says. He's been formulating a plan to ask Dr. Schulze to go on a date with Rodney; he'd hate to ruin the surprise.

"All right, fine, if it matters that much to you." Rodney's eating again, always a good sign things are heading in the right direction.

"So I know your taste in women, but I don't know what you like in guys," John says. Rodney chokes and looks up at him.

"You're joking, right?" He coughs and takes a sip of coffee. "I asked you out our first week here."

"I know! But Anderson is nothing like me…" Actually, Anderson's tall and a little lanky with dark hair and green eyes. "Oh. Anything else I need to know?"

"Well, the thing that makes people most attractive is if they're attracted to me."

John laughs.

"It's true," Rodney says, looking annoyed. "Maybe it's different for you, Mr. Oozing-Superficial-Charm, but knowing someone is interested in me is a powerful attractor. It shows discernment and good taste. Everyone likes chocolate," Rodney says, waving a hand in John's general direction, "but some people like peanut butter, too."

"You're hardly peanut butter," John says. "More like coffee. An acquired taste."

+++++

When John finally gets back to his quarters and checks his email, he's got five offers for Rodney in his inbox. They're all women, which he might have expected if he'd expected any offers at all; maybe if he sets Rodney up on a date with a guy first, he'll get emails from guys, too, and then he won't have to do anything more than reply to emails to set up the dates.

Then he sees that one of the email addresses is Cadman's, and he realizes he's going to have vet these people to make sure it's not a joke and that they have something in common with Rodney.

He answers Cadman's email with a curt, "Not funny," and leaves the other four until morning.

+++++

He's still mulling things over the next morning in the mess when he sees a clump of new scientists sitting with Dr. Parrish. He decides to make friendly – he's never been good at getting a feel for people from files – and brings his tray over to their table.

"Mind if I join you?" he asks. Parrish looks up sharply. They've had a couple run-ins before; he has about as much patience with Parrish as Lorne does with McKay. It's their running joke.

"Colonel, of course," Parrish says, halfway to standing. "I was just going to go over some greenhouse procedures with the new personnel."

"Don't let me stop you," John says, glancing down the table. There are two people that are Rodney's type; John's not going to select based solely on that, but since this is supposed to be about sex, physical attraction is somewhat important. "I think you all know who I am, but I'm sorry to say I haven't learned everyone's names yet, so if you could introduce yourselves, that'd really help me out."

Three of the women are smiling at him like he said something cute. One woman isn't looking at him at all, and one of the guys looks like he might have found John's speech cute too.

They go down the line and introduce themselves. John may not be any good with files, but he's great with faces, and he takes the time to go around the table and repeat their names to lock them in his memory. Parrish is talking about containment procedures and there's some anecdote about soil contamination that gets a laugh out of the botanists and proves John is in the wrong place. He pastes on a smile and continues to listen as he makes his way through his scrambled eggs.

He decides to make a list of people he can talk to about this privately. So far, he's curious about Dr. Alvarez and why she wouldn't even look at him, and Dr. Rand, the guy who was watching John with interest. He's going to have to get better about reading guys if he wants to –

"Colonel," Parrish says as the table breaks up to return their trays. "If I could have a moment."

John knows Parrish is gay and has a boyfriend of many years, but John hadn't thought anything of it when he sat down. He hopes Parrish isn't planning on offering, because he thinks Rodney probably hates the guy, for soft sciences if nothing else, and Rodney's a romantic – John's pretty sure he'd be upset if his date involved the other party cheating.

"Sure," John says, setting his tray back down and settling in. "What can I do for you?"

"Actually," Parrish says, "I think I can do something for you."

"Oh, hey," John says, already putting his hands up. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm trying to find people that are compatible with Rodney, and while you're a nice guy –"

"Not me," Parrish says, frowning. "I meant I could help you with the boys, if you want. It's tough enough trying to feel your way around. Blundering through personnel, especially military personnel, and asking them if they'd like to be set up with Dr. McKay will cause you a lot more trouble than you're expecting." John's mind is stuck on the word _boys_. These are men; there's not a person under twenty-five in the entire expedition. Most are in their thirties and forties. "Colonel?" Parrish asks.

John shakes himself out of it. "I... wait, how did you know?"

Parrish shrugs. "You hear things. McKay hardly keeps it a secret. Not to mention, I saw that exchange between you and Brian Rand. For a second I thought the reports about you were wrong, but then I realized you were probably scoping out dates for Dr. McKay."

"Reports?" John asks, bewildered. "There are reports about me?"

"Just that you don't bat for our team."

"Oh," John says, uncomfortable. "Is there a list somewhere?"

Parrish grins, and taps his temple. "In here. Most of the queer personnel know their own."

"Oh, that's…" Disturbing, John thinks. It's a good thing DADT was repealed, he realizes, because this whole thing is pretty blatant asking. Maybe he should stick to scientists.

"Yes, I was hoping you'd come to that conclusion," Parrish says, as if he can read John's thoughts. "I don't think it's worth the disruption in the military personnel. There are plenty of scientists and staff to ask, and it won't ruffle as many feathers."

John needs to chew on this for a while. It pisses him off; he doesn't want the people under his command having to hide who they are – that was the whole purpose of getting rid of that part of uniform code in the first place. He didn't get to meet every single person who was chosen for Atlantis this time around, but he's willing to send any possible troublemakers home in the blink of an eye and he's certain Lorne feels the same. He doesn't know if Parrish was an eye-opener for him like McKay was for John, but once friends are the people getting a bad deal, it becomes much more immediate.

"Thanks for the offer, Dr. Parrish," John says, "but I think maybe some feathers _need_ to be ruffled." He stands and picks up his tray, but before he can walk away, Parrish puts a hand on his arm.

"In that case," he says, so softly John has to lean down to hear him, "I can let you know who might be prone to causing problems."

John can't take any more – he nods curtly and leaves Parrish at the table as he goes to dispose of his tray.

+++++

John heads straight to Rodney's lab. While he wasn't thrilled with the idea of having to set Rodney up on dates, he hadn't thought it would be such a logistical nightmare.

"So," John asks, as Rodney's tapping away at a computer and adjusting some wires in the belly of a little jelly-bean-shaped machine at the same time, "have you ever had any trouble from anyone here because you're bi?" He asks it in a normal voice, not wanting it to seem too weird – whispering just makes the rest of the lab listen harder. Rodney jerks his head up to look at John.

"What?"

The rest of the lab has stopped working and is staring at him too. "I'm asking if you've been harassed or… I don't know. Harassed."

Everyone's eyes shift from John to Rodney, who makes his sometimes-you're-an-idiot-it's-a-good-thing-I-like-you face. "I haven't. I hear some of the personnel think I carry a disintegrator in my pocket for just those occasions. But almost everyone else in here has."

John looks around the lab. Radek, Miko, Simpson, Decker, and Zellars are present, roughly two-thirds of Rodney's top level staff.

"About being…" John was going to say "gay" but Rodney's not gay and John doesn't know if he can use the word queer. "About not being straight?"

"Yes, Colonel," Rodney sneers, "we're a queer lab. I find scientists to be a bit better about flexible thinking than the military."

John lets the jab go; Rodney's not wrong, and he doesn't want to get into it. He wants to ask if he's the only straight person in the room, but it's so far from relevant he tries to ignore the fact that he even thought it. "Why hasn't anyone reported anything?"

The lab suddenly goes back to work, a flurry of action, and no one is meeting his eyes or looking their way anymore. Rodney sighs.

"You're distracting my staff," Rodney says, grabbing John by the arm and pulling him out of the lab. "Let's go."

It's too early for beer on the pier, which is the way John probably _should_ have broached the subject, but he's pissed at himself for being blind, for not seeing things that should be as obvious as the nose on his face. If anyone's been hurt because he missed something, it's going to kill him.

They walk along Pier 4 instead, the labyrinthine walking path etched on the metal. "You're having your 'oh shit' moment, aren't you?" Rodney asks. "You've known me for seven and a half years and you're only _now_ starting to realize what being queer means in a place like this?"

"You just said you've never been harassed, Rodney. You don't seem to have any negative consequences, at least not when I'm around."

Rodney shakes his head. "That you've noticed. No one will harass me – not like Zelenka, who was pushed around by a couple of jarheads, or Simpson, who had her apartment ransacked. But I still get stares, and people are rude and mean."

John can't help laughing. "And you can't possibly attribute that to your charming personality?"

"Ha ha, Colonel," Rodney says, but he's not laughing, or even smiling.

"Why haven't you told me?" John asks. "I can't do anything about incidents I don't know about."

Rodney waves his hand. "You're the one who assigned Simpson new quarters. And Radek, well, I don't know why he didn't report it. He didn't tell me until months later; maybe we had an emergency right afterward and he forgot. Who knows."

"Why are you so damn calm about this?" John shouts.

"Your freak out is not worth the effort," Rodney answers, implacable. "I've never had anything major happen to me, I've gone to you with the one instance of actual harm and you completely missed the fact that it was because Simpson's a lesbian. What am I supposed to say?"

"Damn it," John says, stopping and throwing his hands up. "I don't like being part of the problem."

"Good," Rodney says, turning around and coming back. "But that's enough. Just start paying attention. You should be good at that."

He should be, but clearly he's been blind to a lot of things.

"Make me your first date," John says.

Rodney glares at him. "That's not funny."

John swallows hard. "I know. But I want to send a clear message to the new personnel."

"I thought this was supposed to be about me getting laid," Rodney says, frowning.

"And I thought that wasn't what you were looking for."

"It's not!" Rodney shouts, waving his hands. "But why should I go on a date with someone who's never going to be interested in me? I may not be looking for immediate sex, but I would like some chance of it at some point in the future!"

"Fine," John says, angry. He doesn't even know why he offered, except that he feels like he needs to do something drastic to make up for his screw up with Simpson. "If you don't want me."

"My preferences are not the problem with us dating," Rodney says.

"Oh, come on," John says. "You asked me out and we're still friends. If I was going to lose it, it would have been eight years ago."

Rodney shakes his head. "I think you should rethink this. And talk to Lorne. He may have something to say about us going on a public date."

 _Lorne_? John has no idea why Rodney would suggest he talk to Lorne, but he mentally pencils it into his agenda for the day.

+++++

"Sir, did you need something?" Lorne says, standing in the door to John’s office. It's still a makeshift office, a table for his laptop, boxes of paperwork they keep sending in the supply runs even though everything's been electronic for years.

"Come in," John says and gestures at one of the boxes, "take a seat."

Lorne sits on the box and flails as it crumples. "Whoa," he says, catching himself with a hand on the floor. "You need some real office furniture, sir."

"I need to have a bonfire with the outdated boxes of forms," John says, and Lorne grins in that way that means John will likely see a request for permission to have a bonfire in his inbox later today. "I need to ask you something."

"Okay," Lorne says, but he sits up a little, wary.

"I was thinking about making myself Rodney's first date."

Lorne's eyes go very wide and his mouth drops open. He clears his throat and squinches up his face as he says, "And can I ask why you thought that was a good idea, sir?"

Of all the people in Atlantis John expected to support the idea, it was Lorne. He'd caught Lorne coming out of Parrish's quarters on one of his late night insomniac patrols. He hadn't even batted an eye, just said, "Boyfriend troubles," and headed to the transporter. It wasn't until two weeks later that John found out Parrish had a boyfriend back on Earth and was homesick.

He's never asked Lorne about his sexual preferences, but he's always imagined him to be open-minded about it, even if he was straight. "Would us dating pose some kind of problem?" he asks, which is about as delicate as he can manage. His temper's rising; he can feel anger bubbling at the back of his brain.

"Not exactly. Though I don't think it's fair to McKay, using him as a political statement."

All the anger drains away in a moment, and John lowers his head onto his fingers, massaging his temples. "I know," John says. "But it would be a really _good_ political statement."

"And it would probably break McKay's dessicated little heart," Lorne says, and John snaps his head up to stare. "He's had a crush on you since day one, Sheppard. Even you had to have noticed."

"We're friends!" John says, sounding hysterical. These past few hours have not been good for his normally even keel. "He asked me out, I said I don't date guys, he said 'cool, there's this neat game I found on one of the lower levels, do you wanna play?'" John thumps his hands on the desk. "We're friends, that's over and done with."

Lorne rolls his eyes. "Sheppard, just because you said no doesn't mean he doesn't have a crush on you anymore. It just means he had to get past it so you can be friends, and he managed somehow. Sort of. Probably because you're a little oblivious."

"Major," John starts, and Lorne puts up a hand.

"No offense, sir," Lorne says. "I like you. You're a good CO, you have the right ideas. You're a little thoughtless sometimes, but we all are. Cadman's schooled me on sexism more than once.”

John rubs his temples again. He probably needs to be schooled on that, too, but one eye-opener is enough for today.

"If you want to make a political statement, set him up with me. I'll go on a date with him."

John sighs. "You hate McKay."

"Nah," Lorne says, shrugging. "He's annoying, but I get why he's on your team. I mean, it's basically the same way you feel about Parrish."

"Well, the point of these dates is that the people have to be willing to have sex with him, so, I think –"

"That's fine," Lorne says. "You don't have to like someone to have sex with them."

"Lorne!" John says, mock-scandalized. "Please let me keep _some_ illusions about you. Besides, McKay's not looking for casual sex, so if the date doesn't go well, you could part ways, no harm, no foul."

"Colonel, let me put this to you in plain English," Lorne says, leaning forward precariously. "I appreciate that your intentions are good and I am willing to take one for the team, so I am telling you – I should be the one to go on a date with McKay."

John rubs his temples. "Fine, you can be McKay's first date. What do you want to do?"

"Isn't it movie night tomorrow?"

+++++

John goes back and forth with himself about telling Rodney about Lorne. One on hand, he doesn't want to give Rodney the chance to nix the date. For whatever reason he's doing it, Lorne is also getting exactly what John wants out of the deal. He decides to send an email.

_First date's tomorrow night at the Fast and Furious double feature._

Short, sweet, to the point. While he's here, he answers the emails he's got for offers to date Rodney – now totaling nine, including two guys, one of them military. He sets aside a couple of hours for interviews and gives them all times to meet him in the mess, except for Cadman. He replies to her second attempt with a simple "knock it off" email and hopes she doesn't feel like being persistent.

He closes his laptop and changes into running gear. He needs to clear his head and get some actual work done this afternoon.

+++++

Parrish gives him a list of names – over two dozen, which is a hell of a lot more than John expected – and John makes a note to check their files. He can't do more than keep an eye on them, but he'll be sure to do that, especially at movie night tomorrow.

He sits down with Lorne and Staff Sergeant Wagner to start working out a schedule for off-world rotations and gives them the list of names to watch out for. Lorne scowls, but Wagner nods and jots down the list. "I have a few questionables of my own, sir," she says, and rattles off another six names. "We need to up their physical and survival training right away. They have too much time on their hands."

"All right," John says. "And let's double patrols and exploration parties. That should keep everyone hopping."

Lorne and Wagner leave together, still talking about schedules for training. John sighs and heads out to the mess to meet the first of Rodney's potential dates.

+++++

"Good morning, Colonel Sheppard," Dr. Rudin says. She's an older woman, in her fifties, but well-kept and handsome. She's more grey than blonde, but she's interesting to talk to and she bluntly says that she's interested in no-strings-attached sex. John likes her.

Dr. Hager is aggressive and a leggy blonde; she definitely makes the list. Sergeant O'Hara is a no-nonsense brunette with a sharp sense of humor. She makes the list too. Dr. Riekert is a very tall, too-thin beanpole of a man with sandy blonde hair and a warm smile. He's not Rodney's type, but Rodney did say willingness was a key component, and Dr. Riekert looks like he's desperate to get to know Rodney better. John puts him down as a maybe. Chemistry isn't a soft science, but it's not physics, either.

John grabs a tray and shovels in dinner while he waits for the next four candidates to meet him. With Lorne and Dr. Schulze, this makes ten potential dates. Rodney asked Teyla not to say anything to the Athosians, but there are a couple of people that seemed more than a little interested in Rodney and since Rodney brought it up, John’s going to find him a date for the Spring Festival.

The next interview is Dr. Merchant. She's a big girl, tall and curvy, with gorgeous raven-black hair and dark eyes. She's maybe twenty-eight years old and smiles constantly, and John can't help smiling back at her. She's genuinely sweet, and he has a bad feeling Rodney would tear her apart.

"What do you know about Dr. McKay?" he asks, leaning back in his chair and sipping his coffee.

"Only that he's brilliant," she answers. "And maybe a little rough around the edges."

"More than a little," John says. "I'm going to level with you here. He's not known for his tact or his social graces. What did you say your specialty was?"

"Cultural anthropology," she answers, smiling again.

"Yeah, I think you might be... disappointed in his company."

"It's okay," she says. "I know lots of rude guys. The trick is to be ruder than they are. Besides, I'm in this for the sex."

"O... kay," John says. He'd date this woman in a heartbeat, but he can't tell if Rodney would. "I'll let you know."

Lieutenant Green is a huge black man – built like an NFL linebacker. He has shoulders twice as wide as John's, and every square inch of him is covered in bulging muscles. John is honestly surprised; he doesn't know Green well, but he's been on Atlantis for eighteen months and John knows his record is as clean as a whistle.

"Lieutenant Green," John says as he sits. "Good to see you. How're things, settling back into Pegasus?"

"Good."

"Well, good," John says. He looks skittish, and John can understand why, but he has a hard time believing he'd get over it enough to go on a public date with Rodney. "So, did someone put you up to this?"

Green startles a bit, and then looks guilty. "Yes, sir. I lost my shirt in a game of poker, and put in an IOU for a dare."

John nods. "Well, thanks for being honest. Head on out, I'll take your name off the list."

"Sir," Green says, looking down at the table. "I have to actually go on the date to pay off the IOU."

"Sorry," John says. "Looks like you'll have to pay up with some other dare. This is about McKay, and my job is to get him dates with people who are interested in him."

"But sir," Green says, looking even more sheepish.

"Oh," John says, leaning forward and whispering. "You _are_ interested in him."

Green nods, looking relieved. "It was Wahl who dared me. He's the only one who knows."

"All right," John says. "I can't guarantee a date, but you're not off the list yet. Fair enough?"

"Yes sir," Green says, grinning and getting up. The chairs on either side of him get kicked out of place as he rises. "Thank you."

John smiles and waits for Green to get out of earshot before he sighs heavily. Green could break Rodney in half. John's pretty sure he's a nice guy, but he couldn't be further from Rodney's type. He puts Green on the 'maybe' list with Riekert and Merchant.

The last two interviews go surprisingly well. Dr. Goldberg is a pretty redhead with a mischievous look in her eye, and Dr. Brant reminds him of Miko, back when Miko followed Rodney around like a starstruck teenager. She's blonde and has a hundred pounds on Miko, but she has the same odd doe-eyed look as soon as he mentions Rodney's name.

He decides she'll be date number two.

+++++

The next night, John goes to the theater early with Teyla and Kanaan. They like to sit close to the screen, so he grabs one of the cushy chairs right behind them. There's only a hundred actual seats, but every one of them is comfortable. They stuff in somewhere between two to three hundred, though, with all the people sitting on the floor and each other. Most of the people in tonight are old-timers, people that have been here long enough to know John and his team, and who know McKay as the abrasive guy who saves their asses every other Tuesday, so he doesn't expect trouble. There are a few new faces here and there, but they're mostly with groups of veterans, and they all seem pretty preoccupied. He wonders briefly if he should sit further back so he can keep an eye on things, but then Kanaan asks him about their most recent trip off-world and the thought is forgotten.

Rodney and Lorne come in together a few minutes later, Rodney looking apprehensive and Lorne wearing a shit-eating grin. John smiles and waves as they head to the back of the theater, already counting the ways this could go so very wrong.

He keeps himself from turning around to check on them by talking business with Teyla. They've been making short, 'we're back in Pegasus' trips to all their allies, giving the new address to those they trust. It's taken about a month, but they've visited almost everyone now. It's time to go back out there and try to make new friends.

He can hear the rise and fall of Rodney's voice – he's far from quiet – and he can tell Rodney's unsettled, but he's never been one to back away from a difficult personal situation, so John's not worried about it. At least, until he hears a rise in pitch that signals Rodney's getting pissed off. Teyla turns around to look, so John keeps his eyes forward and waits for her to tell him the situation.

"They are having an animated discussion," Teyla says. "Rodney looks unhappy, but Evan seems quite peaceful. Oh –" She turns back around. "I believe Evan has given an ultimatum. He is sitting with his arms crossed."

John sneaks a peek then, and whatever Teyla saw, it's already gone. Rodney's sitting sideways, looking for all the world like he's interested in what Lorne has to say, and Lorne is chatting away, smiling. John takes a deep breath and blows it out. The relief is like a weight off his chest. He goes back to his plans with Teyla and Kanaan and doesn't even think about Rodney and Lorne again until sometime in the middle of the movie, when he hears Lorne laugh loud enough to bust an eardrum.

He turns around to take a quick look, and is rewarded with an eyeful of the two of them kissing. He twists back forward and slumps down in his seat. Mission accomplished, he's done worrying. He looks up at the screen in time to see Paul Walker get into it with one of Vin Diesel's crew and focuses all his attention on it.

+++++

After the longest four hours of his life, John stumbles out of the theater, says good night to Teyla and Kanaan, and sets off for his quarters. Rodney and Lorne were still in the back of the theater when he left, looking cozy. He puts it out of his mind. Right now, he has no plans to do anything more than take off his boots and fall into bed.

Before he can get halfway down the hall, Rodney's calling after him. "Sheppard!" he yells, and comes running down the hallway. Lorne's hanging back outside the theater, not smiling, but looking pretty happy.

"Yeah?" John asks, waiting for Rodney to get to him.

"I wanted to say thank you." Rodney unsubtly bobs his head toward Lorne, and Lorne's shoulders shake with silent laughter, presumably from how obvious it is that Rodney's talking about him. "Evan's been great, even though I was worried, and I… I just wanted to say thanks. Oh, and I won't be able to make breakfast tomorrow morning before the meeting. Can we look at the specs after the meeting? Lunch?"

John can feel the shock on his face before he gets it under control. Lorne doubles over, clutching his mouth with both hands, and Rodney apparently caught whatever micro-expression John let slip and is scowling at him. "I thought you –"

"Lunch is cool," John says, putting his hands up. "Have a good time."

"Oh, right. Fine. Good. See you tomorrow." Rodney grins at him, a wide, appreciative smile, and John feels some weird knot of tension he hadn't realized he was carrying around release.

By the time Rodney turns back around, Lorne's got himself under control and is grinning like a little kid as he waits for Rodney to come back to him. John takes one last look at the pair of them – Lorne slings an arm around Rodney's neck and pulls him the opposite direction – and heads back to his quarters, suddenly not as tired as he thought he was.

+++++

The next morning, the team and Woolsey are waiting on Rodney as John pulls up another list of addresses from the database. They have these meetings every few months to see what the best use of the gate teams is. Teyla and Ronon's combined knowledge have been invaluable, and Rodney read enough of the address database when they first got here that he knows the Ancient shorthand for 'left some good stuff here.'

Rodney's late, though, even though he skipped their breakfast meeting. It's oh nine hundred, for crying out loud, not the crack of dawn. He clicks his earpiece on. "McKay."

There's nothing for several seconds, and usually he can wait quite a while because it's always possible Rodney's in the middle of something delicate and shouldn't be disturbed. John doesn't want to know what he might be in the middle of right now. "McKay," he says, his voice a little too gruff. He's debating switching to the military channel and asking for Lorne; he dismisses the thought even as he's thinking it. Just as he's saying "McKay" for the third time, the door to the conference room opens and Rodney walks in.

"Hold your horses, Sheppard," Rodney says, wrestling his laptop and some papers and his coffee. Lorne is with him and holds the door open, giving John a mischievous grin. John has a stab of irritation, but he sweeps it aside. It's on Rodney that he's late, not Lorne, and they both deserve to have some down time and some fun. He takes a deep breath and looks at the first addresses on his list. A bunch of boring, uninhabited planets. Of course, the last time they thought a planet was uninhabited, his doppelganger killed Kate Heightmeyer. He rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes. He slept like shit last night.

The meeting goes well; they've got another sixty addresses to try, enough to give the eight gate teams practice on all kinds of worlds. He waits for the rest of them to file out before he turns to Rodney. Before he can even say anything, Rodney is smiling brightly, looking happier than John's seen him in probably a couple of years. John wants to punch him in the face. He shakes his head to clear the thought. Rodney deserves to be happy, and John should just be glad he had something to do with it.

"Score one for you, Sheppard," Rodney says. "So, if I go on another date with Evan does that mean you only have to set me up on ten more?"

John can't even comprehend Rodney and Lorne going on a second date, but luckily Rodney keeps talking right over John's confused silence.

"No, I suppose not – all the flirting you interrupted would only have led to first dates. Any second dates would have been my doing."

"Right," John says, because Rodney's stopped talking and he needs to say _something_. "So when should I set you up on your next date? I've got people lined up."

"Oh, really?" Rodney asks. He looks down at his computer, forehead wrinkling like he's wrestling with a problem. "I like Evan. And I asked him out again. Do I have to wait until all my dates are over to have second dates? Is there a time limit on how soon you have to provide me dates?"

"Why are you asking me?" John asks. "It's not like I'm making up the rules. There _were_ no rules."

"True." Rodney thinks for a minute. "No," Rodney decides, "I don't think there's a time limit."

"Wait a second," John says. "If you get into a relationship with Lorne, you are _not_ going to dangle those eleven dates over my head for the rest of our lives." _Or until you two break up_ , he doesn't add. The thought of having to set Rodney up on dates every time a relationship fails makes John queasy. "I say no second dates until all your first dates are out of the way."

"Oh, I guess that's fair," Rodney says, and the happiness dims a little. "Let's get them over with, then. Who's up next?"

"Do you want me to tell you?" John asks. Lorne had to be a surprise or Rodney would have balked. He's not likely to know the rest of the people John sets him up with, except maybe the Athosians, if anyone's interested.

"If it's someone I know, yes!" Rodney says. "A little warning about Evan would've been nice."

"I didn't want you to think he was doing it for the same reasons I offered." John hadn't been sure he wasn't doing it for those reasons, at least not until he saw how happy the pair of them looked after the movies.

"I thought that anyway," Rodney answers. "We had to hash it out before the date could really start."

"Worked out okay, though," John says, saves the notes on the gate address spreadsheet and closes his laptop. "And you don't know anyone else on my list, so you're fine."

"Okay," Rodney says, smiling again. Something in John's guts twist that this is the happiest he's seen Rodney for entirely too long. "What's up next?"

"I haven't exactly worked out a schedule," John says. "I'll let you know."

+++++

Rodney is willing enough to go on more dates, despite how well things went with Lorne. It makes John breathe a sigh of relief – getting these dates out of the way is on top of his priority list, and that list includes finding a way to track down the last few Wraith hives and Teyla's Pegasus Galaxy Council idea. He's pretty sure she got the idea from Star Trek, but it's not a bad one, and if she's willing to do the talking, he's willing to back her up.

Date number two is Dr. Holly Brant the doe-eyed, and a nice picnic dinner on a secluded balcony. John doesn't stick around too long; he can't keep an eye on Rodney through all the dates, not without being creepy, and if Rodney can't score with Dr. Brant, then it's not John's fault.

Rodney tells him he kissed her goodnight at her quarters and went to bed alone. John doesn't even get out the first word of his extremely sarcastic response when Rodney cuts him off with, "Not interested."

John decides to give Lieutenant Green a break. After talking to him again, it's obvious a movie is the way to go – they're not likely to have much in common, and Rodney won't appreciate the fact that Mike is one of the nicest guys John's ever met. He puts in a request for a hockey movie and when Miracle shows up on the roster, he sets up date number three.

Rodney tells him that Mike was a lot of fun, they talked sports all night, and when Rodney invited him in, he said yes. He also tells John that there won't be a second date because Mike's in the closet and Rodney's not going to sneak around anymore.

John thanks whoever had enough foresight to build a communal DVD collection before they left Earth, because they have enough to do a couple of movie nights a week for the next three years. It's the easiest date to set Rodney up on and one John appreciates because he can keep an eye on everyone else to make sure there aren't any grumblings.

He hadn't heard anything after Rodney's date with Lorne, but he keeps his ear to the ground about his date with Green. He asks Wagner to keep a lookout too; she seems to be more aware of the personnel than he is. She reports some teasing, mostly good-natured, and John tells her to keep an eye on it.

The email requests for Rodney's dates keep pouring in, and John's long since started weeding them out based on the original emails or the little survey-questionnaire thing he sends them afterward. He still conducts interviews with the most promising candidates, but he's got a list of eight more definite and six potentials, so he lets them slide for a couple days at a time. He gives up on asking Dr. Schulze as well, after he'd run into her leaving Woolsey's quarters one night.

One of the newest people to impress John enough gets date number four. Dr. Gabe Jiang. He's Rodney's type, tall and dark-haired, lanky and sarcastic as hell – even about his own specialty, linguistics. He has a charming laugh, too. John decides to try the picnic idea again, as he's pretty certain this guy's going to be a home run.

Rodney looks annoyed as hell the next morning, though, and says, "I don't want to talk about it," when he sets his tray down on the table.

Date five is another movie – Touch of Pink, which John hadn't realized was a gay romance movie when he set Rodney up with Dr. Elsie Rudin. It's cute, and when Rodney comes to breakfast on wobbly legs the next morning, he's glad it all worked out for the best.

"No more movies for a while, Sheppard," Rodney says, and sits down hard, coffee sloshing out of his cup. He winces. "I haven't been fucked that hard since college."

John chokes on his muffin, and someone from the table behind him thumps on the back, hard. John twists around to say thanks, and sees that it's Lorne.

"Mind if I join you?" he asks, sliding his tray over to their table. "Rodney," he says, and John's heart sinks as a grin spreads across Rodney's face.

+++++

John brings Rodney a muffin and a coffee refill the next morning, when the sensor logs tell him Rodney was in the labs all night. He hopes it's because Rodney's working on something cool that blows up, but it's possible they discovered an Ancient espresso machine and Rodney just had to get it working.

When he walks in, the smile slides right off his face. Lorne is sitting opposite Rodney, chatting away while Rodney's typing on the computer.

"Major," John says, and both of them turn their heads to look at him. Lorne stands up and snaps off a salute, which proves he's feeling guilty about something.

"Just checking up on Dr. McKay, sir," Lorne says, but he's still standing rigidly and not quite meeting John's eyes.

"Relax, Evan," Rodney says. "It's just Sheppard. There's nothing to worry about."

Lorne does meet his eyes then, and John sucks up the ball of frustration bouncing around in his chest and nods. "It's fine, Lorne. I was bringing coffee because I know Rodney's been up all night."

"Oh, _coffee_ ," Rodney says and reaches for the cup with half-lidded eyes. John holds the muffin up with his other hand and Rodney reaches for it like Torren reaching for M&Ms. "Mmm, blueberry," he says, taking a bite and chasing it with a gulp of coffee.

Lorne's watching Rodney's reaction with interest, the stiff posture forgotten. He looks... smitten. Before John can even worry about what that means for him, Radek comes in, stopping to stare at the three of them.

"Good morning," he says, putting his head down and going over to whatever Ancient thingamajig he's working on this week, pretending to ignore them. John goes over and knocks a shoulder into his. "How's it going, doc?"

"Okay, now I'm starving," Rodney says. "Let's go get breakfast."

John turns around to answer but he's left with his mouth hanging open, because one glance at Rodney and the way he's grinning at Lorne makes it obvious he wasn't talking to John.

"See you in senior staff," Rodney says as he and Lorne leave the labs.

"Yeah," John says, glancing at the muffin wrapper and coffee mug still sitting on Rodney's desk.

Radek sighs heavily and rubs his eyes. "Proklít."

"What's the matter?" John asks, glancing back at the machine. "Is something wrong with it?"

"No," Radek says, taking his glasses off and rubbing an eye. "I am... I am trying to be happy for Rodney and Evan. It is difficult."

"You're telling me," John says. "It's so weird."

Radek eyes him. "I thought you were..." He waves his hands around for a moment like John's supposed to fill in the end of the sentence himself.

"You thought I was what?"

Radek laughs. "I thought you weren't interested in Rodney," he says, smiling.

"Oh, I'm not," John says, and all of a sudden he realizes why Radek's upset. "You have a thing for Lorne?" John's never thought twice about Lorne outside of work. Knowing this much about his personal life is starting to make him twitchy.

Radek sighs again. "I didn't know he liked men until his date with Rodney. I would have..." He shrugs. "I might have done something. Now it is too late."

"I'm sorry," John says, wishing he could rewind and undo Rodney's first date. It's been a thorn in John's side, and he's starting to regret the decision, despite how happy the pair of them seem.

Radek tilts his head and looks at John. "I know why I am unhappy with them dating; why are you?"

John shakes his head. It's complicated. "I need both of them," John says, shrugging. "If this goes wrong, it's going to make my life a living hell one way or the other."

"Mmm," Radek says. "Yes, I'm sure that's it."

+++++

John's not one to procrastinate, but he's been thinking all day whether or not he should talk to Lorne. He likes all three of these people, there's no real way for someone not to get hurt, no matter what happens. It gives him a headache.

Lorne takes the initiative and catches John outside the gym after his workout with Teyla. "Lorne," John says in surprise. Teyla says goodbye and heads to the transporter. "What can I do for you?"

"I need to talk to you," Lorne says.

"Okay," John says, herding Lorne into the gym and closing and locking the doors. "What's up?"

Lorne starts to pace. "I need to know if you have a problem with me and Rodney."

"Of course not!" John says, the words shocked out of him. "Why would you think that?"

Lorne doesn't stop pacing, but he does glance up at John. "You aren't taking this well, sir."

John sits on the bench, pulling his towel off his shoulders and wiping his face. "It's all very strange for me," John says. "But I'm happy for the two of you."

Evan stops pacing and crosses his arms. "You're not interested in Rodney yourself?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" John asks. "I'm straight, I've been straight for forty-three years, I'm not about to change my mind!"

Evan raises an eyebrow. "Then why did you look like someone who'd been dumped when Rodney asked me to breakfast?"

"Oh, come on," John says. "We've been friends for years. I'm not used to him _having_ someone else to take to breakfast."

"You didn't think he might be talking to Radek," Lorne points out.

"He never talks to Zelenka like that."

"Like what?"

John glares at Lorne. "It's a team thing, and don't tell me you don't talk to your team a particular way. I've seen you and Donaldson have an entire conversation in six words."

"Yes, there's a team thing," Lorne says dismissively. "But Rodney doesn't talk to me like I'm team. He talks to me like the guy he's dating. Which is apparently the way he talks to you."

John feels like he's been punched in the chest. It's becoming a strangely familiar feeling.

"It's fine," Lorne says, still pacing, "one of the things Rodney and I bonded over was how the person we really wanted seemed completely oblivious." He laughs ruefully. "And Rodney only kept on with you because you didn't have a clue. If you'd ever said anything, he would've backed off."

"Shit," John says, wiping a hand down his face. "Damn, damn, damn."

"It's okay," Lorne says.

John shakes his head. "No, it's not."

"It is, I –"

"Is it Zelenka?" John asks.

Lorne stands absolutely still on the mats, looking at John like a deer in headlights.

"Is it Radek?" John asks again, standing up. "The person you really want."

Lorne still hasn't moved, and John's pretty sure he's got his answer. "I only ask because Radek and I commiserated about you and Rodney getting together. He didn't realize you were interested."

Lorne's looking pale and starting to weave back and forth, so John grabs him by the shoulders and wrestles him to the bench to sit down.

"We talked about my date," Lorne says in disbelief. "He gave me advice."

John huffs out a not-laugh. "Yeah, well, he wants you to be happy."

"I'm going to kill him," Lorne says, and John presses down on his shoulders to make sure he's not going to do it right this second.

"You can kill him later," John says, kicking himself for getting mixed up in all this in the first place. "Someone probably needs to tell Rodney."

Lorne looks pained. "I really do like Rodney," Lorne says. "He's not a bad guy."

"I know." John takes a deep breath, knowing he has to offer and not wanting to. Part of him is desperately hoping that Lorne won't take him up on it. "I'll tell him, if you want."

"No," Lorne says, and John nearly falls down with relief. "I'll do it."

+++++

John doesn't push Lorne to talk to Rodney, but he was sort of expecting him to do it at some point in the next day or two. He's been waiting for Rodney's outraged radio call for forty hours and still nothing. He's already talked to Dr. Merchant and has her lined up to take Rodney's mind off things, but so far there's no way to bring it up without referencing Lorne, and he's not going to be the first one to do that, no way in hell.

They haven't had any meetings together, not entirely unheard of, but a little weird, and Rodney's been avoiding the mess, which John knows he does when he needs to lick his wounds. Normally John would bring food by the lab, but he's part of the reason everything went wrong, so he doesn't want to impose.

He checks the sensors on Rodney's lab to make sure he's not sleeping in there again, but Rodney's not there. John’d only had the lab rigged because he was honestly worried about Rodney working himself to death in those early years. He knows should probably stop looking but it's become a habit now. Get up, check to see if Rodney's been in the lab all night, go running with Ronon. One, two, three.

When he hasn't heard from Rodney in by the evening of the second day, he stops by his quarters and knocks.

The door swishes open and Rodney looks like he's ready to deliver a rant the likes of which has never been seen in this galaxy or any other. Then he recognizes John, makes a face and heads back into his quarters. "Yes?" he asks, sitting back down at his desk where he's got four laptops and several chunks of equipment in disarray.

"Just checking in," John says. "Haven't seen you for nearly two days, and normally that's a very bad thing."

Rodney glares at him. "Obviously I'm fine, so goodbye."

"You're not fine," John says, picking up a hunk of Ancient metal with wires sticking out of it. It glows.

"Stop that!" Rodney says, taking the thing away from him and setting it back down on the desk. "I had that specifically calibrated to non-activation –"

"How come you're not in the lab?" John asks, and Rodney turns a glare on him that could peel paint.

"Because Evan and Radek are making googly eyes at each other in the lab and I might sprain my eyeballs from rolling them so hard."

John winces. "Sorry."

"You should be sorry," Rodney says, glaring again. "Thanks for ruining the one decent date I've had in the last eight years."

"The date was fine! You can't say two weeks later is still part of your first date."

"Fine," Rodney says, throwing his hands up. "Thanks for ruining my chances with a hot guy who actually seemed to like me."

John frowns, but he doesn't have anything else to say. Rodney's hurt, but John's pretty sure he'll be happy for Lorne and Radek when he gets over it. "I've got another person lined up," John says. "Maybe you can have another amazing first date."

"I'm not really in the mood," Rodney says. "Maybe later."

"I didn't mean right this second," John says. "I need to figure out what you're going to do, anyway."

"Who is it?" Rodney asks.

John blinks. "I thought you didn't want to know."

"I don't," Rodney says. "But if it's someone who might like it, they're showing The Proposal tomorrow night. Simpson told me she's going."

"Simpson likes romantic comedies?" John asks.

"I know!" Rodney says, grinning.

"Wait – _you_ like romantic comedies?"

"I do when they show Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds nearly naked," Rodney says, and laughs. John smiles and picks up the piece of equipment again, letting the glow wash over him. They'll be all right.

+++++

Sometimes John wishes he was more connected to the rumor mill, because Wagner tells him the next day that Lorne walked up to Radek in the middle of the labs and planted one on him, right in front of Rodney. Not exactly the way John would have liked to see it go, but effective. If he knows Rodney, and he does, he and Lorne never even had a conversation about it; the only thing that doesn't quite fit is that he knew John was involved with Radek and Lorne getting together. Maybe it was a lucky guess. Maybe John gave it away. Rodney seems capable of reading him better than most people.

Whatever it was, John's not about to bring it up. He keeps planning dates for Rodney, slowly crossing the numbers off on his mental list.

Date number six is Dr. Merchant and The Proposal at movie night. The movie is surprisingly funny. John's not too torn up at having to see it, though he almost wishes he had a date of his own. Maybe he should set them up on doubles, so he can watch how things are going without feeling like he's spying on Rodney.

Rodney laughs a lot, but he tells John later they parted ways at her quarters and he didn't even try to argue.

Date number seven is a guy John met while lifting weights. He asks John to spot, and they have a pretty decent back and forth about the new Who. As soon as John says, "Dr. McKay," the guy gives him a sharp look, sighs, and says, "Yeah, all right." John makes him Rodney's date to the paperwork bonfire Lorne actually managed to arrange. He hardly sees them all night, but it doesn't take more than a couple quick glances Rodney's way to know that things aren't going well.

Rodney's annoyed the next morning and he tells John to stop flirting with his dates. He's sick of going out with people that thought they were doing this as a favor before they got a date with John. John grits his teeth and ignores it, going back to his pre-approved list of email requests.

Date number eight is a woman he should have looked at more closely, because the resemblance to Katie Brown, in looks and temperament, doesn't become obvious until Rodney storms out of the theater during the previews. John moves over to sit next to Dr. Blackledge, who looks startled and about to cry.

"I'm sorry," John says. "I can walk you back to your quarters, if you want."

"I wanted to see this movie," she says, sniffling and wiping her eyes. John had most definitely _not_ wanted to see _It's Complicated_ , but he settles in next to her and she gives him a watery smile.

He's not even sure he can count that as a date, but Rodney says nothing about it, so he figures he'll hear about it later if Rodney decides he's been shorted.

Date number nine is Lieutenant Rodgers, a ripped, blond, intimidating soldier. He's a pilot, John knows, and a good one. He's also a total dork and actually interested in what Rodney does around the place (John doesn't find out until later that he was taking apart Ancient tech in his room, trying to figure out how it worked), so John hopes Rodney will overlook the fact that he's not Rodney's type at all.

Rodney doesn't tell John a thing about that date – which Rodgers insisted on planning himself – and grins mischievously over his oatmeal at breakfast the next day.

+++++

John's going over some schematics Rodney emailed him as he wolfs down his lunch. He's not sure, but he thinks it might be a handheld mini-rocket launcher. The rockets look like crossbow bolts, but they have naquadah in them, so he's betting they do more damage than –

"Excuse me," a low, vaguely familiar voice says. John looks up and sees that it's Dr. Rand, one of Dr. Parrish's newbies. "Do you mind if I sit here?"

John's not used to people approaching him. He likes to think he's personable, but non-team members sitting down with him at meals is a surprising rarity. "Of course," he says, nodding. "Have a seat."

He puts the plans away and takes a second to look at his decimated tray. He doesn't have anything left besides his coffee to linger over.

"I noticed you didn't have dessert," Dr. Rand says, "so I brought an extra pudding."

He hands it over and John takes it, surprised. "Uh, thanks, Dr. Rand. That's –"

"Brian," he says. "And, honestly, I was buttering you up."

"Brian," John answers. He has no idea what Brian could be buttering him up about, but he peels the lid off the putting and takes a spoonful. Butterscotch, his favorite. "What can I do for you, Brian?"

"Well, I heard that you are a golfer," Brian says. "And I haven't played since we left Earth – I didn't even bring my clubs, honestly, I didn't think there'd be anywhere to play..."

"Oh, the driving range," John says. "I mean, I haven't put up any buoys yet for yard markers, but it's nice to hit a few balls out into the ocean."

"It sounds awesome."

"We should play sometime," John says. There are people of all stripes on Atlantis, but until now, he would have said he was the only golfer. It's great to finally have someone that shares the interest.

"Definitely," Brian says, grinning. "I have tomorrow night off – I don't suppose you're free? I imagine you're pretty much always busy."

"I can clear some time out of my schedule for a fellow golfer," John says. "But I've got meetings until sixteen hundred. Why don't we go after dinner, say eighteen hundred? That'll give us a couple of good hours of daylight."

"Sounds good," Brian says, and they talk until John has to leave for one of his never-ending afternoon meetings.

+++++

John hasn't had a real golfer with him on the driving range since Rod. Ronon bent one of his best clubs and Watson was worse than John, which is a feat as John's handicap is pretty atrocious. He likes golf because it's something he's not particularly good at, and he doesn't have to get better at it because their lives don’t depend on it. He can be unabashedly mediocre.

Brian's better than mediocre. He's better than Rod, even, and when he offers to help John with his slice, John doesn't even get half a refusal out before Brian's standing behind him, positioning John's body and his grip and keeping his hands on John's shoulders as he swings. It does take care of the slice. There's a thrill of fixing something that's plagued him since he was twelve, but also a little sadness at losing a bit of his determined mediocrity.

He swings again and it slices, and Brian chuckles. "No, you forgot the shoulders," he says, grabbing John and squaring him to the tee. He puts his hands on John's shoulders again and John hits the ball perfectly over the middle, easily two hundred and fifty yards.

"There," Brian says, picking up his own club and knocking one out of sight. John really has to get those buoys set up. That could've been four hundred yards. He's only ever seen Ronon hit it that far.

+++++

They're still talking and laughing as John heads back to his quarters, so he doesn't even think it's weird that they're standing outside his door. He doesn't know where Brian's quarters are, but everyone's still smooshed into a single tower. They can't be that far.

"Thank you," Brian says, and John shakes his head.

"No, thank _you_ ," John says. "I haven't had anyone to golf with –"

He's brought up short by Brian kissing him, his body pressing John's into the door, enough to make John claustrophobic if he wasn't so freaked out. He shoves Brian away, keeping his arm up to fend Brian off while he tries to get a couple of lungfuls of air. "What –"

Brian looks bewildered. "I thought… You…."

"You thought this was a date?" John asks, feeling a little bewildered himself. "What… How…"

"I'm sorry," Brian says, backing up in a hurry. "I misunderstood." He looks afraid now, and he's already halfway down the corridor before John can figure out what to say.

"Wait!" he calls after Brian, but he's long gone, and the two women coming down the corridor stare at John with wide eyes before deciding to turn around and head back wherever they came from.

++++++

John paces his room for a while, trying to figure out when he should have noticed it was a date. He doesn't have a lot of friends in Atlantis outside his team and Woolsey, or at least not the kind of friends he can hang around with. He doesn't remember it being this hard back in Antarctica. He had friends that he played poker with, got drunk with, generally did guy stuff with.

He gives up on pacing and goes to find Rodney. He's in his lab, alone, grumbling about something.

"Sheppard," he says as John walks in. "Thank god. I was about to beat my head against the wall out of sheer frustration." As John gets closer to his work bench, he sees some ancient gewgaw with its guts strewn all over the place.

"What's that?" he asks, nodding at the debris.

"No idea, and thanks to Rodgers, I probably never will."

"Rodgers?" John asks. "Lieutenant Rodgers? What did you guys _do_ on your date?"

Rodney waves his hand at John dismissively. "Never mind. This is one of six – _six_ – pieces of Ancient equipment he took apart in his quarters. _In his quarters_. He's pretty, but oh so stupid."

"He had enough skill to take them apart, though," John says. He knows Rodgers has the gene, so maybe they weren't working, and it wasn't –

"He wanted to know what made them glow," Rodney says. John groans. That is pretty stupid. "I can't believe he didn't kill us all."

John can't either. Apparently Rodgers is the luckiest bastard in the whole Air Force.

"Let's get out of here, I need to get my mind off this before it drives me crazy."

"Cool," John says, and it isn't until they round the corner to the transporter that he realizes he came down here to talk to Rodney about his not-date with Brian Rand. "So," John says as they step into the transporter. Rodney pushes the button that takes them to the long corridor in pier 2 that they use to race their cars.

"So?" Rodney prompts as he steps out of the transporter.

"So I think I accidentally went on a date with a botanist," John says, and Rodney turns around so fast he nearly trips over his own feet.

"How do you accidentally go on a date?" Rodney asks, and then grins mischievously. "Was she hot?"

" _He_ was not my type," John says, and the look of shock on Rodney's face would make John laugh if he wasn't still trying to decide what to do about Brian.

"You don't date guys," Rodney says softly.

"That's why I said it was accidental," John says, picking up his car and looking it over. He had been planning on some more modifications before they raced again; he'd forgotten about them in the whole nightmare with Rodney's dates. "We were golfing – how was I supposed to know it was a date? I would never have known if he hadn't kissed me."

"He _kissed_ you?!" Rodney asks, his face still screwed up in shocked-pissed-confused. "You didn't stop him?"

"I was surprised!" John says, his volume rising to meet Rodney's. "I pushed him back as soon as I realized what was going on."

"You mean, your reflexes were so slow that he got the drop on you," Rodney says, sarcastic disbelief dripping from his every syllable. "He was standing close enough to kiss you before you could object, and you didn't notice this was a date."

John thinks back to Brian's hands on his shoulders as he fixed John's slice, and his eyelids slide shut as he looks to the ceiling for mercy. "Shit."

"John," Rodney says, his voice soft and not at all like Rodney, which only goes to show John's in the shit now. "I know you've been straight a long time, but –"

John puts his hand up, opening his eyes to let Rodney know he's serious. "Do not finish that sentence."

Rodney stops talking, looking annoyed at being interrupted, but still half-concerned, too. John chuckles. "I promise to think about my heterosexuality later," John says, just to derail the subject completely. "What I need is your advice on what to do about this mess. Brian ran off like he thought I might shoot him or something, and I like him. He's funny, he golfs, we had a good time –"

"On your date."

John glares.

"Yes, fine, fine, go on."

"I want to be able to golf with someone once in a while," John says. At Rodney's pinched look he adds, "Real golf, not computer golf. And don't tell me you'd hit golf balls around, you've been making excuses since day one."

"All right," Rodney concedes. "Well, it's obvious you're not going to kill him, so just tell him that, and that you want a platonic golfing buddy."

Of course. John knows that. He doesn't bother to wonder why he needed Rodney to tell him.

+++++

John sucks it up and goes down to the Botany labs the next day. Parrish is in the main area, directing several people and holding a clump of flowering plants in his gloved hand. He sees John and comes right over.

"Colonel," he says, looking wary. "What can I do for you?"

John rubs the back of his neck. The situation is awkward enough without having to lay it out to Parrish.

"Ah, Dr. Rand," Parrish says, and John wonders how much he's heard. He smiles broadly and points down the hallway. "Brian's working alone in the vegetable greenhouse. Fourth door on the right; there's a long hallway and some stairs, but keep going. It's worth the view."

"Okay," John says, glad he doesn't have to say any more. A couple of people are sneaking looks at him, like they're worried he's going to do something stupid. Great.

Parrish turns around to glare at them. "Back to work," he says, and his irritable tone reminds John of Rodney. He smiles his thanks to Parrish and heads out for the greenhouse.

He hadn't realized they had a vegetable greenhouse, but it makes sense - they never ran out of corn or potatoes, not after the first year. The hallway has several doors on the way, but he they're all closed and he tries not to be creeped out with the soft lighting coming from nowhere and the long, blue-gray metal hallway that looks like it'll never end.

He finally hits the stairs – a spiral staircase that goes up several stories, judging by the ache in his thighs. The higher he goes, the more he gets the clean dirt smell of a garden, the one he remembers from his mom's flowerbeds. When he gets to the top, there's a huge, round glass room, rows of all kinds of Earth vegetables growing in concentric circles. There's a path among them, cutting through at an angle, and he walks down it, looking for evidence of Brian. He can see the ocean from here, and it's about four stories up. Looking up at the domed ceiling, he thinks this is one of the glass pods off the low, squat tower on pier 5. There are four more; John wonders what they're growing in the rest of them.

"Brian," he calls. The room is huge, and the corn is taller than he is; it blocks his view across the pod. "Brian, can I talk to you?"

"Colonel Sheppard." Brian's voice is flat, coming from the other side of the corn. John follows the path around, but he can hear Brian's footsteps in time with his, keeping the corn between them.

"John," John says. He wishes Brian had been as forthright as Rodney was, that they could have gotten the 'no dating' thing out of the way before he realized how much he enjoyed Brian's company.

"Dave told me you'd come by," Brian says. "I didn't believe him. Or maybe I was just hoping you wouldn't."

"Hey," John says. He has no idea where people get these ideas about him. "I wanted to clear the air. And I was hoping you'd want to golf some more, sometime."

"You," Brian says, a beat before he finishes the sentence. "You want to go out again?"

"As friends," John says, because insisting he's straight never does any good and mostly gets him laughed at. "I had fun; didn't you have fun?"

"Yeah," Brian answers. "But I thought I was on a date."

"Is that a deal-breaker?" John asks. "Because two guys can be friends, you know."

Brian laughs, and the corn rustles in front of John as Brian's voice gets closer. "I thought you were going to kill me," Brian says. "The look on your face."

"Was surprise," John says firmly. "I never see these things coming."

Brian steps out of the corn, coming to stand next to John on the path. He nods. "Makes sense."

John doesn't even want to get into it. "So we're cool? We can go to the driving range sometimes?"

"Yeah," Brian says. "We're cool."

+++++

John sequesters himself in his office that afternoon to deal with his email. Since he's got Rodney's last three dates all set, he can send polite replies to the all the people looking to date Rodney and send them on their way. He'll be happy not to be in charge of Rodney's social calendar any more.

He has two hundred and sixteen emails in his inbox. Nine are reports and paperwork he's putting off. Two are complaints he forwarded to Lorne and has to remember to check up on. Three are reminders from Teyla about the Spring Festival coming up, and over two hundred are requests to date Rodney.

He rearranges them by sender, and it turns out there are about a dozen particularly persistent people. He answers them with "Thanks for your interest," and deletes over a hundred emails. He still has sixty-some left and he answers them one by one, not even reading most of them, until the line _and my friend Greg could come along if you want to double_ catches his eye.

It's one of the last dozen emails, sent this morning. Apparently the rumor mill moves faster than he expected.

He sends the same bland response email and sets up a auto response message saying he's not scheduling any more dates for McKay before closing his laptop with a heavy sigh.

+++++

John heads over to Woolsey's. He needs to relax, enjoy some good booze and a cigar. He hopes Richard isn't busy.

When Rodney started dating Keller, John found out in a hurry how much time they’d previously spent together. It was enough that most of his down time felt pretty lonely; there were swathes of the city that he avoided because he missed Rodney. He missed Teyla too; with Torren, she had a lot less time to spend with him, and if he offered to babysit (or was recruited), he wasn't actually spending time with _Teyla_. He still hung out with Ronon from time to time, but Ronon wasn't a sit-on-your-ass kind of guy, and John liked to read or watch movies, or generally be a couch potato when he was trying to relax.

Woolsey was the answer to his prayers. John doesn't even remember the first time; it was a little celebration in Woolsey's quarters for some mission or another – maybe when he got them out of that trial – and it was cognac and cigars. John isn't that big a drinker, or a smoker, and he normally drinks beer because that's what everyone drinks; it's easier to pretend he wasn't born with a silver spoon in his mouth. With Woolsey, though – Richard, he thinks, Richard in his quarters – he can enjoy the stuff and the company and it's _relaxing_. Not quite as relaxing as computer games with Rodney, but still, comfortable.

John knocks on Woolsey – _Richard_ 's door. It always takes a second to switch gears, but that's just because he isn't used to having separate relationships with people. Richard compartmentalizes better than anyone John's ever known. Outside his quarters, he's Woolsey, or Mr. Woolsey, or head of the expedition, and everyone is called by their titles or last names. Inside, they're friends; first names, warm smiles, humor. It had taken some getting used to; his team is his team and the fluidity with which they move between taking orders and picking on him like an older brother feels much more natural these days. Rodney's the epitome of absolute lack of boundaries between all aspects of his life. It's probably related to the genius thing – everything bleeds together, and there's no putting away Rodney's logical thinking when they're watching movies, his hobbies when they're on a mission, or his friendship when they're in trouble.

Richard comes to the door, takes one look at John and says, "Come in." He waits for John to step into his quarters and the door to slide shut before he offers John a seat and goes to his bar, using the remote to lower the volume of the symphony blasting out of his music system.

"You look like you've been hit by a truck," Richard says, unstoppering the cognac and pouring two glasses.

"Do I?" John asks. He's been feeling worn down lately, this whole thing with Rodney has been exhausting.

"Quite," Richard says, handing him a snifter. "Being Dr. McKay's social secretary a little tiring?"

"It's not easy," John answers, breathing the cognac in. "It's turned into a nightmare for my personal life, anyway."

"I thought you didn't date Lanteans."

"I don't," John says. "But this new crew doesn't know me or the way I operate, and apparently everyone thinks I'm gay and in the closet. I had my first date with a man the other day and I didn't even notice until it was too late."

"Dr. Rand," Richard says solemnly. "That one was a whirlwind rumor."

"Yeah," John says. "Do I seem that gay?"

"Does it bother you?" Richard asks, taking a sip of cognac and closing his eyes.

"A little," John admits, because it's okay with Richard, he doesn't judge. Rodney would be disappointed.

"Why?"

John sighs and takes a seat on Richard's couch. "No one wants people to think they're something they're not."

"That's not true," Richard says. "That's what reputation is based on. We don't want people to think _bad_ things about us. Is being gay bad?"

"No," John answers automatically, but he stops to make sure that's what he really thinks and not what he's supposed to think. It's not bad for other people to be gay.

Richard raises an eyebrow at him. "John."

Maybe because Richard truly understands confidentiality, or maybe because he's _not Rodney_ , John can talk to him, about all the things he doesn't even _think_ to himself most of the time.

"It's not bad for other people to be gay," he says out loud. Richard's eyebrows go up, but John holds his hand up to keep him from interrupting. "It's okay for me to be gay," he says, and his stomach drops so fast he gets motion sick. "Okay, that was a lie."

Richard takes a sip of cognac and sits back. He doesn't ask any more questions, just waits for John to struggle through whatever is going on.

It's not okay for me to be gay because I'm _not_ gay, the niggling voice in the back of his mind insists. It doesn't make sense, though, it shouldn't _matter_ if people think he's gay if he's not. He doesn't care that people think he's a womanizer, because he's not. He doesn't care that people think he's suicidal in his command, because he's not.

"But I'm not gay, so it shouldn't matter what people think," John says. That, at least, is a truth.

"But apparently it does matter," Richard says, taking a seat beside John.

John nods. Richard takes another sip and John can almost hear him debating with himself, deciding what else to say. He finally spits it out. "Are you sure you don't want to talk to Dr. Choi about this?"

"Hell no," John says, but it is unfair to Richard to lay this all at his feet. "But I'm ready to forget about it for another decade or so." He almost laughs when he realizes he's actually thinking about his heterosexuality, just like he told Rodney he would. "It's a sad waste of this cognac, anyway," John says, taking another sip. "What's new with you?"

+++++

Rodney's tenth date is surprisingly tame. The girl is exactly Rodney's type, and shy. Rodney eats his popcorn loudly during the movie and sighs a lot, and when Rodney tells him the next day that he walked her to her quarters and didn't even kiss her good night, he decides to make the last two dates guys. Rodney hasn't been interested in any of the women since Dr. Rudin.

It means he'll have to rearrange Rodney's date for the Athosian Spring Festival, but it won't be too hard to find someone else. He hopes.

+++++

"Are you going to be one of McKay's dates?" Ronon asks him while they're running one of the long loops around the city. John puts the run at six and a half miles, but that's mostly based on how sore he is after.

"No," John says, huffing a little. "Why would you think that?"

Ronon shrugs.

"No, really, why would you think that?"

Ronon turns around, running backward. Show off. "You dated that scientist guy. I thought maybe you were dating guys now."

"You think I was actually on a date with a guy."

Ronon shrugs and turns back around, running a little faster.

+++++

Teyla hands him Torren as soon as he walks in the door. John takes him gladly, even though he's getting heavy. "Thank you, John," she says. "I am in need of some time out of our apartment."

"Where's Kanaan this week?" John asks.

"Preparing for the festival," Teyla answers. "He makes the hettlesin cakes. It's his specialty."

"What's your specialty?" John asks. Best to be prepared so he knows what not to eat.

"I make the wreaths of flowers for the young ones," Teyla answers, pointing to a pile of leafy branches in a table. "There are only fourteen to make this year."

John puts a hand on her shoulder. The Athosian settlement is tiny; she's been trying to convince them to move to an already inhabited planet, but they are stubborn. There are only five unbonded young men and women. John doesn't know a lot about genetic sampling, but he knows statistics, and that's not enough for a culture to survive. Pegasus peoples know this better than he does, and it's hardly his place to say anything. He hopes Teyla can convince them. Maybe they could join the Satedan survivors on Manaria or Belkan.

"I will be back in a few hours," Teyla says, gracefully stepping out from under John's touch. "I need to clear my head and run some errands."

John walks Torren for a while, but he insists on being put down so he can run around. He dashes around the place, around and over the bed, stopping to jump on it a few times. He starts to slow down after fifteen minutes or so, and when he stops jumping on the bed, he lays himself down on a pillow, looking at John with big, sleepy eyes. John grabs a bit of floor next to the bed and watches Torren wind down, eyes blinking closed, slower and slower, staying shut longer and longer, until Torren's breathing evens out and he's asleep.

John wanders around for a while, trying to figure out what to do. Normally he brings a book, but he forgot this time because Teyla sounded so harried over the radio. Teyla doesn't have anything to read in her quarters; she has a number of audio recordings, and John knows her iPod is full of audiobooks. The linguists explained that the Athosians have an oral tradition, and that spoken words are more valuable to her than written ones. He gets it, but it leaves him at loose ends at times like these. He sits down at her craft table and takes a look at the wreaths. They're surprisingly sturdy, the branches bent in circles and leaves tucked in among them.

Teyla comes back as he's trying to make the branches curve – they're surprisingly strong and resisting everything he can think of to make them bed to his will. She laughs at him and tells him to wait as she goes over to the kitchenette and pours a large bowl of water. She brings it over to the table and sets it between them, grabbing a branch and wetting it, and then slowly bending it until it is resting in the water.

"I see," John says, though he's at the limit of his patience with this stuff. "Are you feeling better?"

"Much, thank you," Teyla says. "I was getting cabin fever. It's hard to stay inside making wreaths with the Spring Festival coming up."

"I can imagine," John says. He was never any good being indoors, either.

"I will need to brush up on my dancing," Teyla says. "You could do with some practice, too. And Ronon and Rodney."

John smiles weakly. "Great. We can do it instead of movie night on Thursday."

"Perfect," Teyla says. "I will attempt to write down the steps and email them to you. I should make something to instruct those from other worlds, anyway."

"Do you expect a large turnout?" John asks. At least if there are other people stumbling over the dances he won't feel so awkward.

"I think so," Teyla answers. "Halling has spread the word to many of our trading partners, those who had not heard of our issues with Michael." She looks down at the bowl of water, fiddling with the wreath. "We are allowing them to set up stalls for food and trinkets; we do not have enough people to run the stalls and the festivities."

John doesn't know what to say. His heart goes out to her; he can't even imagine Earth being wiped out down to a few dozen people. "I'm sorry," he says, finally, and she smiles, still staring down into the bowl.

"Thank you," Teyla says, and then snaps out of it. "I am tired – I think I will join Torren for the remainder of his nap."

"Okay," John says. "Let me know if you need me again."

"I will," Teyla says. "Thank you very much for watching him."

"Any time," John says, wondering if he should try for the forehead thing. He decides against it, but he glances back as he's about to head out of her quarters, watching her caress Torren's face as he sleeps.

+++++

With all the new people, there's been an influx of new movies. John's not too picky with his movies, so he loves team movie night, hanging around with the team and eating popcorn and not doing much of anything. Learning Athosian dances has the important element (hanging around with his team), but is much less fun. He's not clumsy, and he has a pretty good memory for dances, but there's only one Teyla, so half the time, he has to dance with Ronon or Rodney, and he's bad at letting other people lead.

"Well sometimes you _won't_ be leading, John," Teyla says teasingly. "The unbonded young men and women will be searching for potential partners, but Jinto and his friends are of the age where they are looking for their first lover."

"Ah," Ronon says, "no dancing with Jinto, okay."

John frowns, partially because Jinto's only sixteen and partially because he expected Jinto to dance with girls, if that was the case.

"No," Teyla says, "but Rodney or John could dance with Jinto."

"Wait, wait, wait," John says, and Rodney purses his lips and looks put out. "Jinto will be dancing with guys? And it's foreplay?"

Teyla looks at Ronon and back to John. "Yes. Generally on Athos our first lovers are older people of the same sex. Is that not the case on Earth?"

"It was a common practice on Sateda," Ronon says, "but not everybody did it."

Rodney is giving John the stinkeye, so he's careful to tread lightly. "Well, Jinto's a little young for sexual activity," John says, "at least in my experience."

Rodney laughs. "Not mine. But that's one of those things when you skip grades, I guess. I had girls fawning all over me when I was his age."

"Oh," Teyla says. "You have fertile intercourse so young?"

"Some do, though most of us use protection to avoid disease and pregnancy," Rodney says. "There's so many people and cultures and ways of doing things on Earth. I don't think Jinto's too young, but it would be uncomfortable to be his... mentor. It's illegal to have sex with kids under eighteen on Earth. Well, in _some_ places on Earth."

"Yes," John says, relieved. "Jinto's age would be a problem for most of the expedition members."

"And Sheppard is straight, so it'd be a problem for him to have a lover of the same sex."

"Straight?" Teyla asks. "Not crooked?"

Rodney laughs. "Not _bent_. But yes – he only has sex with women. Most people on Earth are straight, sort of unthinkingly always with the opposite sex."

"I'm not _unthinkingly_ straight," John says, but his stomach drops again, and he's really not ready for any more of this. "And we're not having this conversation. Let's talk about the unbonded men and women. Does dancing with them constitute foreplay? Or engagement?"

"Only multiple dances constitutes possible engagement. Foreplay, well, that is another matter," Teyla says, smoothly picking up where she let off. "And the young will always lead, whether they are men or women. The elders follow the wishes of the young in the spring. In the fall, the young defer to the elders."

"We're elders now?" John asks, and Teyla grins.

"Yes, John. You and Rodney are venerable already; a few more years and you will be uncommonly old."

"Venerable?" Rodney says in disbelief. "But we're only in our forties!"

Teyla smiles sadly, and John wishes he could reel the whole conversation back in. "Never mind," John says. "Why don't you show me how not to lead again?"

+++++

There's still another week before the Athosian festival, and the team has two off-world missions. He needs to sneak in one more Lantean date for Rodney and make sure everything is in place on Athos for the Spring Festival.

Their first non-"welcome back to Pegasus" mission is a medicine run to M39-C6X. Beckett's been working closely with them on developing simple drugs, antibiotics, analgesics and the like, but there are other meds they need that are beyond their capabilities. Atlantis brought several chemists this time around, and Rodney helped engineer some of the machinery necessary to do moderate mass production of drugs.

It's a nice, easy mission, and Leis flirts with John like she always does, making Rodney roll his eyes behind her back. John grins and bears it, waiting for the end-of-day supper with the governor's family so they can get out of there. Rodney gets pulled away by one of their scientists to look at something in the labs, so John's left with Teyla and Ronon, discussing local politics and trying to remember what was happening last time they visited.

When Rodney's been gone for over an hour, John tries not to worry – Rodney in a science lab can lose several hours easily – but he can't help it. He asks Leis to take him to the lab so he can check on Rodney and she happily obliges, winding her arm around his.

When they get to the lab, it's completely deserted, and John's spidey-sense is tingling. Normally he doesn't let any of his team go anywhere alone, but they know the Essroth, they've been allies for years, and John can't remember how many governor's suppers they've had together.

"Oh dear," Leis says, and giggles. "I think perhaps Rodney has accepted Heth's advances at last."

John looks down at her, blushing and batting her eyelashes up at him like perhaps he's following suit, and struggles with what to do. He can't go rushing in to save the day if it's Rodney getting laid, but he doesn't want to go back to the table empty-handed and have to explain why, either. He smiles down at Leis and says, "Let's head back. I'm sure Rodney and Heth will be on time for supper."

Leis's face falls and John smiles down at her as kindly as he can muster. She's barely twenty, and he's just not interested in that sort of thing anymore. It's gotten him in trouble on a couple of planets, anyway, which makes him wonder if having sex with guys doesn't bother anyone's sensibilities because as far as he can remember, they've never been driven off a planet because of Rodney's sexual habits.

When they get back to the table, Heth and Rodney are already seated, and Rodney is jabbering excitedly to Teyla about something new at the labs. He's flushed and his hair is messy, and John realizes that he's always put that look down to the gleam of scientific discovery, or the possibility of ZPMs. He's an idiot. Heth is practically levitating, he looks so happy, and when Rodney spots Leis with her arm still wrapped tightly around John's, he shoots John a conspiratorial look that makes John's stomach churn. If Rodney thinks that every time John goes off alone with a woman that they're having sex, he finally understands where the Kirk thing comes from.

"Bring the food," the governor says, as John pulls out Leis's chair for her, and when he looks up, he notices the glare the governor is giving him. Figures. Now he has to deal with an irate father as well as a disappointed daughter, and Rodney's the one that got lucky.

+++++

"Thanks a lot," John says over chess that night. Rodney looks up at him briefly before moving his knight and falling right into John's trap.

"What?" Rodney asks, gloating. "We both got lucky for once. That almost never happens."

"Not so much," John says, moving his queen to capture Rodney's bishop. "I got a lecture from the governor about taking advantage of his hospitality and his children, and I don't know if you noticed, but Leis was a little put out that I wasn't going to oblige her like you did Heth."

"Oh," Rodney says, still trying to figure out what he did wrong. "Oh," he says again, suddenly looking up at John. "You didn't have sex with Leis? Why not?"

"I'm not really interested in having sex with twenty-year-olds," John says, waiting for Rodney to take his revenge so he can box him in some more.

"Oh, what, is that some kind of dig that I am?"

"No," John says. "You're welcome to have sex with whomever you like," John says. "I'm just not interested anymore."

"Well good for you. I'm thrilled that women throwing themselves at you has become old hat." Rodney takes John's knight, spitefully, and John moves his rook down the board.

"Check," John says. "And it's not boring, It's just... it's not worth it."

"So wait," Rodney says, glancing around the board and finally seeing where he went wrong. "You're not dating Lanteans, and you're not getting any off-world anymore... are you celibate?"

John thinks about the last several years, the brief thrill of his antagonistic sort of attraction to Larrin, and says, "Not on purpose."

Rodney knocks his king over, finally seeing that John has him in three moves, and sighs. "I'm sorry," he says. "Maybe it's time to rethink your no Lanteans rule."

John shrugs. He hasn't been interested in anyone in a while. It's like the interest itself has waned. "I don't know," John says. "I think that's probably a bad idea."

"I don't know why," Rodney says. "Even Woolsey is dating these days, though I have no idea what Dr. Schulze sees in him. There's no reason to hold yourself apart from everyone. You've interviewed how many people for my dates? Don't tell me there wasn't a single woman that sparked your interest."

John shrugs. He doesn't even remember most of them anymore, especially the women, since Rodney seemed determinedly not interested in them after Dr. Rudin.

"Best three out of five?" Rodney asks, setting up the board again.

+++++

When John heads back to his quarters that night, he thinks about the last time he was attracted to anyone (Larrin) and then tries to remember the last time he had sex. It's been years. Two at least, probably more. He doesn't even remember the last time he jacked off. Maybe a month ago. He never had a huge sexual appetite, but that seems a little off, even for him. He knows that stress can affect interest levels, but usually in the Pegasus galaxy, his stress comes with an adrenaline boost that makes him want sex.

He strips and climbs into the shower. He's not a big fan of baths, but right this second, he wishes he had one. The water pounding down on him is nice, but he kind of wishes he could sit down for a while, get comfortable and think things through. At his thought, a frosted panel rises up from the floor and the shower starts to fill. He should have known. He takes a seat and lets the warmth of the water seep into his limbs.

His conversation with Woolsey is still bugging him. He wants to know why it's not okay for people to think he's gay, if that's some weird remnant of his childhood hanging on or if it's a prejudice he didn't realize he had, or if there's something else. He can't imagine his father ever even thinking about one of his sons being gay, or bringing anything gay up with any of them at any time. An absence of gay, but not an outright hatred of it. That's probably where John's blindness came from. He knew gay people in the service and in college, and he doesn't think it's ever bothered him. He'd turned down men before Rodney, and after, it's not like he freaked out at being hit on. Except for Brian. But that wasn't just being hit on, that was being kissed.

His stomach lurches at the thought. _It shouldn't matter_ , John thinks, but his stomach is still roiling.

He sighs and stands up to shower. Damn baths.

+++++

John sets Rodney up with Dr. Walters for his second to last date. The A-Team is showing and they talked about it for ages when John heard they were making a new one, so John knows Rodney wants to see it and it won't be weird that he's going to be there too. He waits for them to arrive and choose their seats, and he grabs one off to the side and behind them. Rodney turns around to grin at him, and John smiles back. Just the Spring Festival now, and then John is finally scot free.

The previews roll and John settles down in his seat to watch. He still can't quite believe they cast Liam Neeson as Hannibal, but sometimes actors surprise you. The guy playing B.A. looks all right, but he's never been fond of Bradley Cooper, even if he ends up as a decent Face. Hannibal looks right, but it isn't until Liam Neeson talks that John's sold. When he does, he looks over to Rodney – that had been their hottest debate about this movie, he expects Rodney to be gloating.

Rodney, however, looks like he's about to hump Dr. Walters. They're making out pretty heavily, already horizontal, so all John can see is Rodney leaning down, and John's stomach plummets at the sight.

He tries to go back to watching the movie, but it's like realizing there's a reel change marker in the upper corner of the screen. He can't ignore it, Rodney is kissing the hell out of a guy just inside John's peripheral vision, and he glances that way compulsively every few seconds, like he checking Rodney's still there or something.

His churning stomach makes popcorn impossible, so John sets the bag on the floor and sinks into his chair, trying to find a way to get Rodney's giant make-out session out of the corner of his eye. He positioned himself to keep an eye on them, though, and he did his job well. Short of getting up and moving or trying to nap, there's nothing he can do. Maybe they'll come up for air at some point.

John's still helplessly sneaking looks when they finally do come up for air, and Rodney is wearing a simple, ridiculously happy smile. That smile has always been bittersweet for John; he's glad Rodney's happy but he's sad he so rarely gets to see such pure joy on Rodney's face. It's happened less and less as the years in Pegasus have gone by. Rodney glances at John, still grinning, and John gives him a weak thumbs up. Rodney gives one back to him, his smile even brighter now, and finally, _finally_ turns back toward the movie.

+++++

John's never been a sit-through-the-credits kind of guy, but he's hoping the lovebirds will leave before him so he can escape without having to talk to them. They're making out again, though, and they probably don't even notice that the movie is over, so he rethinks his strategy of sitting through all the credits and gets up, sidling around the couch Rodney and Walters are on.

Something tips them off and they come up for air, both of them looking at the screen at the same time. John moves a little faster, but Rodney turns around to check where John was sitting, and immediately scans the room for him when he realizes he's no longer in his seat. When Rodney finally claps eyes on John, he crows, "I told you Liam Neeson would be the perfect Hannibal!"

John's surprised he saw enough of the movie to be sure it was Liam Neeson, much less critique his performance, but he agrees anyway. "Yeah, you were right, Rodney." He chucks a thumb over his shoulder and says, "Bedtime for tired colonels. See you at briefing tomorrow."

Rodney's eyes go round and then it clicks. The briefing tomorrow is for the Athosian Spring Festival, which technically counts as an off-world mission since representatives from so many different planets will be there. "Right, meeting at thirteen hundred. See you then."

John smiles blandly at Walters, who's looking uneasily between John and Rodney, and turns to leave. He can't help a glance over his shoulder, and Walters is kissing Rodney again, so he rolls his eyes and heads to his quarters.

+++++

When John gets back to his quarters, he's not even a little bit tired. He tries reading; usually he drops off after a page or so, but he can't concentrate enough to get a page into it. He paces for a while, debating if going for a run would wear him out enough to sleep. It takes a good half-hour to come down from a run, but between the physical exhaustion and hot shower, that should probably do it. He'll be sorry when he runs with Ronon tomorrow. It's past twenty-six hundred, though, and he has a meeting at oh eight hundred and he needs to sleep.

He puts his radio on and double clicks it. "Ronon?" he asks, while he changes into running shorts and a t-shirt.

"Yeah?" Ronon's voice rumbles over the line.

"Can we skip the run tomorrow?"

"Sure," Ronon says, and clicks off. He knows Ronon runs without him, but he refuses to feel bad. It's not like Ronon needs his company, and unless Ronon is exhausted and John is having a truly spectacular day, all he does is slow Ronon down.

John puts on his running shoes and heads out, planning a long route along Pier 4, the one with the walking trail etched into the deck. It's twisty but there's only one way to go; if you follow the trail, you'll end up back in the city, and he imagines it's probably a good five miles, at least.

The run feels pretty good. He's got some serious adrenaline going, and he's more than halfway before he knows it. The weariness sets in around what feels like mile three and he pushes himself through it, figuring if nothing else, he'll sleep like the dead. He gets his second wind not too far from the end, when he can see Atlantis's main spire glowing with all the lights on. Rodney turned off power to all the outbuildings when they were down a ZPM, so it's the only thing lit up in the whole place, and it looks a little creepy. John knows they're making plans for all non-off-world personnel to live one concentric circle out from the main spire, but they've been waiting on Rodney to assign someone to clear the towers, and it's too far down his list. John will have to get Lorne to ask Radek to handle it. Radek's probably the man for the job anyway.

John's back before he knows it, and his legs feel like jello. It was a good run, and, he thinks, he should be able to drop off easily after a nice, hot shower.

+++++

John lies in bed, staring at the ceiling. The adrenaline's long since worn off, and he can feel the ache settling into his muscles – that sucks, as he's usually asleep for it. His eyes are burning, they're so tired, but even with them closed, he can't fall asleep.

He thinks about jerking off and decides it may be the only way he'll get to sleep. He hasn't been interested enough to bother, but he's tried everything else, and if he doesn't get to sleep soon, he's going to be useless tomorrow. He slips a hand inside his boxers and grips himself firmly, trying to think about anything sexy at all. He should check the porn on the server again – with all these new people, there's bound to be some new stuff. He can play most of the old porn in his head, and it's long since lost its sexy feel.

He thinks of Larrin and her smug smile, the way her eyes flash, and how she shot him after their kiss. That was hot, despite how inconveniencing it was at the time. Unfortunately Larrin's become a distant memory and they only ever hear from the Travelers when something is wrong and they need someone to fix their ships. He tries to think of anything sexy he's seen in the million and one films he's seen since he started planning Rodney's dates, but that just brings back memories of Rodney and Walters making out.

His dick firms up in his hand.

"Oh, no you don't," he tells it, but as he thinks of the way Rodney was leaning down, the way his shoulders were working, he can feel his traitorous dick twitch more. He gives in and imagines it. He has to completely imagine Walters, since all he could see was the way Rodney's body was moving, but it's not too hard to picture them on a bed instead of a couch. He's breathing hard in seconds, and as he remembers the way Rodney lowered himself down onto Walters's body somewhere in the middle of the movie, he comes all over himself, and feels himself slipping away to sleep before he can even think to wipe himself off.

+++++

Normally John's pretty good with remembering the little details Teyla gives about the different cultures, and it only takes a little bit of effort to remember names. He got good at it as soon as he realized he was going to have to keep Rodney from making giant cultural faux pas every time they stepped through the gate. Rodney's gotten better over the years, but it's become habit.

He can't concentrate today, though. Not even a little bit. Teyla hasn't stopped, but she keeps shooting him looks that say "I know you're not paying attention," and she's right. He keeps thinking back to that morning, going into the shower with his boxers on because he'd fallen asleep and the come had glued them to his skin. The amount of hair stuck in them meant there was no way he was going to try and rip them off like a bandaid.

Even with the water and the soap it'd taken a solid five minutes to get them softened up enough to get out of them. Then he'd jerked off thinking of Rodney and Walters again, and in the process started a sexual identity crisis that's continuing into his debrief with Teyla. He sits back and puts on his interested face. He doesn't feel too bad about not paying attention. Atlantis is friendly with more than half the worlds Teyla's got on the list and acquainted with most of the other half.

He can't help his mind wandering, and every time he thinks about Rodney and Walters making out, he feels a little thrill that probably means he'd be hard if he were younger. Thank god jacking off twice in twelve hours is a good way to fend off embarrassing public hard-ons at his age.

Rodney still looks happy, he's smiling at Teyla and seems to be paying attention, so maybe John can be forgiven just this once. Besides, it's the Spring Festival, good times for all. People will be drunk and happy and hopefully easygoing about other cultures.

Rodney corners him after the meeting to say thank you, and that makes his guts twist, but when Rodney says he and Walters were up most of the night, John has to rethink his assessment about masturbation keeping away embarrassing public hard-ons. "Terrific," he says feebly, and when Rodney's happy smile turns lecherous, he decides to take his lunch in his quarters, seeing if maybe the third time's the charm.

+++++

John lies on his bed, softening dick in hand, his eyes screwed shut against how completely fucked he is. A fundamental shift in his sexuality is not something he expected to be part of the middle-age package that started when he turned forty. Slower healing times, creakiness when he got up in the morning, silver hairs at his temples, all those things were fine. Well, not _fine_ , but not unexpected. Suddenly wanting to have sex with men was not on his mental list.

He decides he needs to get this out of the way. He's never been one to put off the inevitable. If it's awful, maybe the sudden sexual appetite will go away, or at least the fantasies of two men having sex. If it's good... maybe he'll finally have the answer to why his libido has been mostly non-existent since he's come to Pegasus.

He debates talking to Lorne about it; he's not even sure how things work between two guys. Is it the same as the whole process for getting a woman into bed? He's always had a rule that he doesn't have sex on the first date. It was the only dating advice his father had ever given him. "Son, don't take a woman to bed until you've taken her out at least twice." He still remembers it crystal clear. He'd been so shocked at the words he'd only blinked at his father and nodded.

So that meant at least two dates, unless guys didn't do things that way. Maybe they didn't, or maybe it depended on the guy. Then he remembered that he'd already _had_ a date, and if he and Brian went out again, it'd be their second date. The thought doesn't give him butterflies, but he's still got come cooling on his stomach. It's not like he could get hard again right now anyway.

He decides to ask Brian out. Better to know for sure, one way or another.

+++++

John sees Brian in the mess at lunch, and sits down across from him, bagged turkey sandwich and coffee mug in hand. "Good afternoon," John says, and is relieved when Brian smiles up at him and says, "Hi."

"I have to run," John says, since he only has half an hour before his meeting with Lorne and Wagner, "but I was wondering if you wanted to go out on the driving range again."

Brian grins widely. "Sure! I've been thinking about how to rig buoys," he says, and John wants to reach across the table and hug him. Rodney is a great help with jury-rigging almost anything on Atlantis, but he absolutely hates golf (John still blames that on Rod) and won't even give the buoys half a thought.

"Awesome," John says. "I've been thinking about it a long time, but the ocean is pretty deep, so I don't know how we'd keep them anchored without two tons of metal and anchors."

"We can talk about it later," Brian says, nodding at John's sandwich bag. "Another meeting?"

"Yeah," John grins. Then he remembers that he needs to tell Brian this is actually a date, and he swallows nervously. "And… and remember how I didn't realize our last outing was a date?"

"Not likely to forget that in a hurry," Brian says, and his tone is light, but the grin drops off his face and he looks worried.

"I'm sorry about that," John says, and while Brian is tripping over himself to let John know an apology is not necessary, John just blurts it out. "I'm sorry because I _do_ want this one to be a date."

Brian stops stuttering and stares at John, looking a little stupid. "You what?" he asks, and John supposes that's only fair.

"Will you go out with me?" John asks. "To the driving range?"

John can see the switch in Brian's face from disbelief to gloating. "I knew I wasn't crazy!" he crows. "I've _never_ had my gaydar be that wrong before."

John smiles weakly, and resists the temptation to look around and see who's watching them. It doesn't matter, _someone_ is, and the rumor mill is in full force about him anyway.

"So you'll go?" John prompts.

"Oh, definitely," Brian says, and his face is back to relieved and a little flushed. "Wouldn't miss it."

"Tomorrow night?" John asks as he gets up to head to his meeting. "We can go after dinner again, nineteen hundred?"

"Sounds good," Brian says, grinning.

+++++

John's slice is exactly as bad as if Brian hadn't ever said anything. He isn't even trying to suck, it's like his body can only remember how to be utterly mediocre at golf. Brian laughs and says something about fixing John's aim and comes over to shift John's body again. He grabs John's arms and shoulders and waist, shoving everything into place and keeping his hands on John's shoulders again.

John can't quite believe he didn't freak out the last time Brian tried this; it's bizarre to have someone who's not team touching him. It speaks to how well they hit it off that John accepted such casual touches without thinking twice. This time he's paying attention, and the touches are much less casual, at least in his mind. He knows Brian was probably flirting with him last time, too, but John didn't notice and knowing doesn't make any difference.

Having someone's hands on him is the strangest feeling. When he tries hitting the ball, it slices worse than ever and they laugh, Brian's hands sliding down to rest on John's waist.

For half a second John thinks about turning around. He knows if he did, he could kiss Brian right now. His stomach flips and instead of turning around, he reaches for a ball out of the bucket. Brian's hand slips down to his ass and John comes up so fast he knocks Brian in the nose with the back of his skull.

"Oh shit," John says, as Brian staunches the blood. "I'm so sorry."

Brian gives him a watery smile. "My fault. That was too forward, I shouldn't have."

"You surprised me," John says, batting Brian's hands away and using a towel to mop up Brian's face. He stops when Brian's nose starts bleeding again and he gives Brian the towel to hold while he pinches Brian's nose shut. "We need to get to the infirmary."

"All right," Brian says, letting John guide him by the elbow.

+++++

Dr. Schulze gives Brian ibuprofen and an ice pack and tells him to lay low for the rest of the night – no strenuous activity, so golf is definitely out. John's got The Losers on DVD, he's been meaning to watch it on Lorne's recommendation for a while now. He offers to share, and even though Brian's never heard of the movie, he agrees and lets John steer him back to his quarters. John settles him in and goes to his own quarters to pick up the movie.

John swings by the mess on his way back to Brian's quarters and grabs some chips and water, tucking the DVD under his arm. He sees Rodney eating a late second dinner and he waves. Rodney frowns and nods back. John detours over to Rodney's table automatically, waiting for his tirade about the idiots to start as he walks up. Rodney doesn't speak, he just looks kind of morose and keeps eating his pudding.

"What's up, buddy?" John asks, and Rodney shakes his head.

"Rough day," he says, and then sees John's payload. "What's that? Are you going to watch a movie? Which one?"

John sets down the snacks and pulls out the DVD case to show Rodney. "Mmm," he says. "Zoe Saldana and Jeffrey Dean Morgan. I'd totally watch that again."

 _Shit_ , John thinks, realizing entirely too late that he should never have stopped and now he has to explain to Rodney that he's on a date. "I, uh..."

Rodney's eyes go wide. "You're going to watch it with someone else? Are you on a date?!" He looks like a proud father.

"I accidentally made Brian bleed," he starts, "and I felt bad, so –"

"Oh," Rodney says, his face falling. "Just don't dump me because you have cooler friends now. I know you smoke cigars with Woolsey."

John blinks. If this wasn't a date, he'd have invited Rodney along. "I'm sorry, I –"

Rodney waves him off. "Go, enjoy your movie. I'd be lousy company tonight anyway."

"We can do a movie tomorrow night," John says, "after the mission. Something stupid and funny."

"Yeah," Rodney says, sighing and returning to his pudding. "See you later."

+++++

When John gets to Brian's room, he's stripped down to boxers and t-shirt and looks comfortable wrapped in a blanket and sitting on a couch he must have brought from Earth. It looks way too comfortable to be Ancient. "Are you sure you –"

"Get over here," Brian says, holding the blanket up like he wants to tuck John into his little cocoon too. John swallows and starts breathing carefully to control the nerves that have been popping up here and there since he asked Brian on this date, and came back with a vengeance as soon as he walked in the door to Brian's quarters.

He walks over, dropping the snacks and DVD on the desk Brian's set up as a TV stand and settles on the couch, letting Brian drape the blanket over both of them even though he's already warm. He sits forward at first, putting the DVD into the laptop and waiting for the menu to come up so he can start it. Brian leans over and unties John's shoes; a spike of nervousness makes John's mouth goes dry, but he mumbles his thanks and kicks them off.

The menu comes up and he pushes play, settling back and leaning against the arm of the couch. Brian leans into him and suddenly he's not warm anymore, he's about to spontaneously combust. He's going to be unattractively sweaty soon, so he bunches the comforter up around Brian and off of himself.

"Get comfortable," Brian says, tugging at John's jeans.

Another lightning strike of nerves, but John's determined to ignore them, so he unbuttons his fly with an easy tug and slithers out of his jeans. When he looks up at Brian again, his eyes have gone dark and John's nerves kick up another notch. He wonders if this is how Rodney feels in social situations all the time, because he has never been this nervous on a date before, and it's making him awkward and even more silent than usual.

Brian flips the comforter over them both and leans onto John again. The movie is playing in the background and John wants to watch – there was already a funny bit with Chris Evans' character – but Brian's hands are slowly moving down the outside of his thigh, and he's paralyzed because he has no idea what to do. Idris Elba pulls out a second knife in the poker game on the screen and Brian chuckles and says, "Remind you of anyone?" and no, no it doesn't, because John's never been one to carry lots of knives. One is plenty as long as it's a good one, and normally a gun works just fine, and –

Brian turns to him, looking him up and down. "Are you okay? You look really pale." He pulls back some and John feels like he can breathe again.

"I don't know," John says, because this can't be regular-date jitters or humans would be extinct by now. "I never..." There are so many things he's never, he can't even pick one as a way to end that sentence.

"It's okay," Brian says, and his hand pulls back from where it was creeping up John's thigh. "We can take things slow. Slow is good."

Brian is smiling at him, his eyes still dark. John whooshes out a breath and nods. "Slow is good."

Brian nods and turns back to the movie, his shoulder brushing John's from time to time. John's nerves settle and when Brian slings an arm behind John on the couch, John doesn't really notice. The movie's just started to get good, Zoe Saldana's showed up to stalk Jeffrey Dean Morgan. Then Brian brushes a thumb up John's neck and John nearly jumps out of his skin. He turns to Brian, who is staring at him and not the movie, and Brian leans in, slowly. John knows it's for a kiss, and he tries to be cool, but his nerves are all jumbled up with the excitement.

Then Brian's lips are on his and his eyes slide shut automatically. Time slows down and he's only a little weirded out – he's been kissed by aggressive women before, and it's not that different. Brian's tongue slides into his mouth and there's a moment of panic because John has no control and there's a spike of fear he might choke, even though he knows that's not going to happen. Brian's leaning in with his whole body, too, and John's own body has tried to disappear into the corner of the couch, so he's suddenly got the same claustrophobic feeling as the kiss at the door, and he needs to –

The kiss ends and Brian backs off, giving John some room. John jumps off the couch, pacing next to the desk. Brian is smiling, so apparently he didn't notice John's freak out during the kiss, which is good, but John's ruining the effect by pacing and Brian's smile turns to concern. "Bathroom?" John asks, and Brian nods at the only other door in the place; of course it's the bathroom. John nods and practically runs in, shutting the door and resting his forehead against the smooth metal, trying to cool down his thoughts as well as his body, which still feels like it might burst into flame at any moment.

He glances down at himself, in boxers and a t-shirt, in another man's quarters. What the hell had he been thinking? He closes his eyes and thinks of the way Rodney leaned down to kiss Walters in the movie theater, and his dick responds, and he remembers exactly why he's doing this. He splashes some water over his face and takes a couple of deep breaths, willing the nerves to settle down so he can enjoy the excitement part, and opens the door. Brian is wrapped up in the blanket again, looking small and insecure, and John feels bad about putting that look on Brian's face. There's no sound coming from the laptop; apparently Brian paused the movie.

John would try to look cool as he crosses the room, but boxers and socks is never going to look cool, so he gets to the couch as matter-of-factly as he can and takes his seat. Brian doesn't offer him the blanket.

"You all right?" Brian asks.

John nods. There are so many reassurances to give, not one of which John can get out of his mouth. He takes Brian's hand in his instead, threading their fingers together. Brian smiles and leans forward to start the movie again.

Brian must be pretty restless, because his thumb sweeps over the bit of skin from the crook of John's thumb to the base of his index finger. It's nice and it doesn't distract him from the movie, which has gotten interesting and funny all at once. Lorne'd been right, it's a good one. Brian's thumb moves in to circle John's palm while their fingers are interlaced, and just like that, the movie is completely forgotten. John's hands are nearly covered over with calluses in his old age, but the sweet spot right in the center of his palm is still extremely sensitive, and he has to bite back a groan.

Brian notices John's reaction because he's back to watching John and not the movie. John can see him out of the corner of his eye, staring at him while he slowly drags his thumb over the sensitive skin. John closes his eyes and when he opens them and looks over at Brian again, he can see hesitation there. John's already freaked out twice, if he does it again, Brian's likely to cut his losses. John holds Brian's gaze, telepathically telling him it's okay, he should try kissing John again. He doesn't look away, even as Columbus Short makes some hilarious comment on screen. Brian leans in and John moves to meet him, chanting in the back of his mind _don't freak out, don't freak out_.

He closes his eyes out of habit as the kiss starts, and he concentrates on staying calm. The kiss is tentative, more than any so far, and John puts a hand on Brian's shoulder to encourage him. Brian makes a noise in the back of his throat and surges forward, leaning into John again, and John notices that Brian's surprisingly heavy for a guy his size. He pushes John back against the arm of the couch and John puts his other hand on Brian's chest to keep himself from getting crushed.

Brian gets more aggressive, his tongue poking into John's mouth, and John keeps chanting _don't freak out, don't freak out_ until Brian shifts and puts a hand in John's hair. John makes an _ahhh_ sound into Brian's mouth and Brian groans like John's done something really sexy, squirming under John's hands. Brian slings a knee over him and suddenly he's sitting on John's lap. John shifts, lifting his hips and Brian with them and moving his legs onto the couch so he can lean back against the arm, and then Brian pulls John's head back by the hair – ouch – and starts kissing him again.

John doesn't mind making out; he's always kind of enjoyed it, and he's found if you do it long enough with women, they usually get turned on enough to make the first move. It seems the tactic works on speed dial with men, because Brian is restless and his body writhes, shuddering as he moans. John likes giving his partners pleasure, it's always been one of his favorite things about sex, but he's not doing anything to Brian, and he's not even that into what's going on, only half-hard. Brian does a whole body slither against John and everything lines up so Brian's hip puts pressure on John's cock and he's transported back to Emma Mueller in the tenth grade, letting him rub off against her during one of their make-out sessions in the back of his dad's car.

He assumes Brian must be hard from the way he's breathing, but it's not as noticeable against his body as he thought it'd be, not with their boxer shorts in the way. Brian must be thinking the same thing, because he sits up to pull off his shirt, and then John's, and he starts pushing his boxers down before giving John a long, appraising look and finally saying, "Want to fuck me?"

John coughs out a noise of disbelief – he's never had anyone ask him that straight out. He knew this was where they were headed, but somehow he expected them to get there a little less directly. "I, uh... sure." He tries to smile confidently at Brian, but he has no idea what he's doing. He's back to chanting in his head, except now it's _you can do this, you can do this_.

Brian grins, climbing off John and dropping his boxer shorts on the floor. He's well-muscled, in what John thinks of as a gym junkie kind of way. John puts his time in at the gym, but everything he does (well, almost everything) is to make him better at something else he's going to need for his job. Running, climbing up buildings, holding ropes with his teammates at the end of them – he wants to be able to handle whatever the Pegasus galaxy throws at him. Brian looks good, he supposes, rather objectively, but John would take Rodney's semi-fit state over Brian's muscles any day. Rodney has some decent strength in his arms and legs and he can run now, if he has to. Brian would be lost off-world.

A slow grin spreads across Brian's face at John's inspection. John smiles guiltily; he's been staring for at least a full minute. Brian walks over to his bed and starts rummaging through the night stand. John stands up and shucks the rest of his clothes too, glad to get rid of the socks, finally. By the time he gets over to the bed, Brian's kneeling on it with his back to John and there's a bottle of lube and a condom on the nightstand. He's never used lube before, but it's a gigantic bottle – he has no idea who could even use that much lube in a lifetime.

"Been a while?" Brian asks, and then rolls his eyes. "Of course it has. It's okay, I'll talk you through it."

John swallows and tries to smile, but he has a feeling it's less reassuring than he had hoped. He grabs the condom and puts it on - better to do it now, while he's hard enough. He picks up the bottle of lube – 32 ounces, he notices, boggling at the idea of four cups of lube.

Brian falls forward, now on all fours, and crawls up the bed a little. There's room for John at the end of the bed, but he still doesn't know what he needs to do, whether he should kneel too, or stand, or sit. Brian looks back at him, and his uncertainty must show, because Brian takes the lube out of his hands. "Here," he says, "I can get myself ready."

John stares helplessly as Brian takes the lube out of his hands and squirts a huge dollop in the middle of his palm. He lies down on his back with his knees bent, dragging two fingers through the lube on his hand and putting them between his legs. He comes back for another swipe of lube and does something that squeezes a breathy sound out of him. John's frozen, unable to move, only half-wishing he could see what Brian is doing. Brian comes back for a swipe of lube every once in a while and it only takes a few trips for the lube to be used up. "More lube," Brian says, and John has to unstick himself and go to the nightstand to squeeze another dollop into Brian's hand.

He can see from this angle and Brian is pushing two fingers into himself and doing something with them, not twisting, but something that makes his hand tremble with the effort. John wishes he had some idea what it was, because Brian's breath is coming hard and fast now, and that's the sexiest thing that's happened all night.

A few more swipes of lube and Brian has three fingers in himself, which, despite the fact that John's dick is going to go in there and is at least three fingers wide, seems improbable. Brian's hips cant up to meet his fingers, and it also occurs to John that he never expected penetration to be enjoyable. If he really thought about it, he expected that it was a matter of necessity and guys just took turns to be fair.

Brian has to be ready for him, John thinks, and finally he knows what to do. He pulls Brian's hand away and kneels between his legs. Brian looks dubious, but John leans down to kiss him, and when his dick slides along Brian's slick crotch, it feels almost like a woman. "Wait," Brian says, reaching for the lube. _More lube?_ John thinks, and Brian squeezes a whole handful and reaches between them to slather it all over John's dick.

John fumbles around a little, kissing Brian and trying to figure out how to get in. It's not exactly easy with women, but when you get it right, it's like they want you to come in. This is the complete opposite, like an unbreachable wall. He pulls back and Brian's smiling at him with something approaching pity.

"It's okay," he says. "Let's do it the easy way." He pulls himself up to sitting, yanking John down for a rough kiss, and then he rearranges himself on hands and knees in front of John – like he was when he first went over to the bed. John wonders if he thought John was lying when he said "I never," or if he thought maybe John meant he never eats sweets on Sundays or something.

John can see from this angle, Brian's ass right in front of him. Brian pulls the cheeks of his ass apart, and now John can _really_ see, and right there is Brian's asshole, pink and shiny with lube. He swallows convulsively and lines up his very slippery dick. He pushes in a little, just the head, and he thinks his eyeballs might explode from the pressure. Brian's hands fall to the bed and he lets out a low moan, a surprisingly sexy sound, and John pushes a little further in. After a few shallow thrusts, he puts his hands on Brian's hips, pulling him onto John's dick, which makes it easier to tell when he's ready for more.

Brian seems to like that, and that part of this is at least understandable. He can read Brian's pleasure in every sound, in the way his body moves; it's not a like a woman's but it's plenty loud and clear. John's almost having an out of body experience, he feels like his brain is hanging back, taking the whole situation in and giving him pointers. It's a little clinical and a lot weird and not sexy at all. He's been here before, with a couple of lovers he couldn't connect to, but it's not what he was hoping for with Brian. He likes Brian.

Brian moans some more as John finally pushes in balls-deep; Brian's back arches like a cat. It's pretty, like Brian's pretty, and John pulls out a little to watch Brian writhe. It's almost like porn, being able to watch his dick pump in and out of Brian and not have to worry about keeping his hands and mouth busy so Brian enjoys it. That is, until John realizes that Brian is stroking his own dick in time with John's thrusts. Maybe John was right, and Brian is only letting himself be fucked this time so that he can fuck John next time.

 _Don't freak out,_ he tells his brain when he feels the rush of nerves that accompanies the thought. He leans down, instead, reminding himself to think of Brian first, and tries to put a hand on Brian's dick. He's plastered against Brian's back, which is slick with sweat and smells nicely musky, and once John gets his hand on Brian, he comes, his dick squirting in John's hand, come dribbling over John's knuckles.

 _Don't freak out,_ he tells himself, letting go of Brian's dick and shoving Brian's ass forward so he can get his dick out. Brian flops forward onto his face, still moaning, so John pulls off the condom even though he's still half hard and brushes the back of his hand against the sheets.

Brian rolls over, smiling lazily up at John. John's not quite sure what to do; they're very far apart, for people who just had sex, and Brian's bed is a mess. He doesn't exactly want to crawl in and cuddle. What he really wants to do is take a shower.

Brian catches him not paying attention and glances down at himself, then the bed. "Don't worry," he says, standing up. "I've got plenty of clean sheets." He gets up and strips the sheets onto the floor and turns to John. "Can you get a fresh set?" he asks. "They're in the third drawer of the dresser in the closet."

John goes into the closet, a glimpse into the entire universe of Brian, and tries not to look at anything too closely as he opens the third drawer down and pulls out a light green sheet set. There are several, all pastel, and green is the least offensive to his sensibilities. Just looking at sheets that aren't white seems weird.

He passes them off to Brian and helps tucking the corners of his side under the mattress. When they're done, Brian climbs onto the bed, put his nose into the sheets, and inhales deeply. "I love the smell of fresh sheets."

John's discomfort with being naked has gotten more and more overwhelming as he's wandered around Brian's quarters, to the point where he either has to get dressed or get under covers right this second. He's not a naked sort of guy. He doesn't wander around his quarters naked, not even from the shower to the closet. He realizes he's freaking out again and starts up his _don't freak out_ mantra.

"Come on," Brian says, pulling up the sheet and patting the bed next to him. "You're starting to space out – you must be pretty tired."

John almost crawls in, but considering he's pretty certain gay sex isn't for him, it seems cruel to lead Brian on by sleeping in his bed.

"I am," John says, "but I think I should go back to my quarters." He heads back to the couch where his clothes are in a crumpled heap on the floor.

"Wait," Brian says, and his voice sounds desperate and a little broken. "Wait, did I do something wrong?"

John picks up his clothes and puts them on one by one, trying to make his voice as neutral as possible. "No, you're fine," John says. "I…"

"Oh, it's not me, it's you," Brian says flatly, and John turns around to look at him. He looks pissed off and sad and a little scared.

"Well, _yeah_ ," John says. "What exactly did you think I meant when I said 'I never'?"

Brian's eyes go wide and he answers, "I thought you meant you didn't have sex on the first date," he says. "But I figured this wasn't really our first date, and you seemed to…" Whatever he sees in John's face, it makes him stutter to a halt. "What _did_ you mean by it?"

John shakes his head and finishes getting dressed.

"Wait, _never_?" Brian asks. "I figured it'd been a long time, you've obviously been in the military a while, but…"

John has spent a lifetime making sure people can't see what he's thinking. The habit's hurt him with people close to him, Nancy especially, but he hadn't expected him to bite him in the ass quite like this.

"I like you and I want to keep hanging out," John says. "But that's it." Brian looks at him miserably, but John shakes his head. "I understand if you –"

"No," Brian says, still miserable. "I like you too. I'd love to hang out again."

John nods. "Thanks," he says, and Brian looks like he might ask what for, but he doesn't, thank god. "I'll see you later," John says, making a beeline for the door without looking back at Brian. He heads straight back to his quarters and takes a long, hot shower.

+++++

Relief seeps into John as the water sluices down his back. He spends a long time in the shower, standing under the hot spray after he's clean and letting it wash over him. He went through with it. Brian seemed to enjoy himself, but clearly, John's not gay. There wasn't some magical revelation that he wants to fuck men, or even Brian, whom he kind of liked, so something just misfired in his brain when he'd thought about about Rodney and Walters. He can't even really remember what they looked like anymore.

Maybe he really likes kissing, or maybe he's touch-starved. Heightmeyer used to tell him that was a problem, but Choi doesn't even bring it up, so John's not sure what to make of it. The relief is palpable, though, so he's going to assume he's still straight and maybe needs to find a not-too-demanding girlfriend that likes to make out and watch movies. Maybe Rodney's right, maybe he needs to consider dating Lanteans.

+++++

They have one more mission before the Athosian Spring Festival – accompanying Teyla and Halling on a trade agreement for several large animals to be roasted on spits over the course of the four-day celebration. Ronon and Teyla talk excitedly about the preparations the whole way. Apparently Ronon's dad was a trade ambassador and took Ronon along to several festivals and negotiations when he was young.

The hum of conversation is just enough that he can listen and keep his mind busy so he doesn't have to think about anything more than the stupid movie they're going to watch tonight. He's gone through a ton of ideas in his head, but he's settled on Race to Witch Mountain because he knows Rodney will mock it mercilessly and he also knows Rodney has a thing for The Rock that embarrasses him. John actually likes the movie – he thinks it's kind of cute – but he's long since gotten used to Rodney mocking every movie he puts in, whether he likes them or not.

They can park right outside the town walls, and Lorne catches John's eye as they file out of the jumpers. Halling and Parrish are chattering excitedly and John knows Lorne had pretty much the same jumper ride as he did. Lorne will only be able to attend half the festivities, as he and Teldy are sharing military command while John's on Athos enjoying the party. Lorne doesn't seem bothered; he supposes they all get their chances. Teldy's team gets a three day weekend every year to do the winter sledding competition on Krannthien and Lorne gets the whole week off for the Urnseri wine barreling celebration.

The three scientists with Lt Johnson are chattering excitedly too, but Johnson looks grim-faced. Considering it's an anthropologist, a biologist, and a veterinarian, John's pretty sure Johnson _didn't_ have the same jumper ride as John and Lorne. Good thing it was only fifteen minutes from the space gate.

The successful purchase of such a large cargo (one absolutely huge animal that Lorne gets to take, two Newfoundland-sized animals that John'll have in the back, and six sheep and pig-sized animals that poor Johnson'll be taking with her) means the Kirdnal provide a luncheon as a thank you. Teyla and Halling gratefully accept, and the scientists' eyes light up. It's their lucky day; none of them are on gate teams, and while they sometimes go out on particular missions, celebrations and meals are still rare.

They're all given a tour guide to take them around the city while the meal is prepared. They've traded with Kirdnal on numerous occasions, so while John doesn't like the idea of everyone going off on their own, he allows it. He tells them all to check in by number whenever he double clicks on the radios. The scientists roll their eyes at him like he's being overprotective. He lets it slide. They don't know what it's like out here.

Their guides come by, a selection of young men and women. John's not quite sure who picks who, but Rodney elbows him and points out a young man with long black hair and pale blue eyes, and says, "Dibs."

John has a stab of something uncomfortable as he realizes the kid with the long black hair is staring at Rodney, too, a smile and a blush spreading across his face. He frowns. There's no way there's going to be enough time for fooling around before lunch, is there? The last thing he wants to tell Schulze is that he let everyone go off and get space STDs. The way several of the guides are eyeing him, though, he thinks it's probably part of the hospitality package. He frowns at the kid, but neither he nor Rodney seems to notice.

The trade minister comes over to John and explains that the Lanteans may choose the guide they prefer, and the choosing is done in rank order. It's tough to do with a mix of scientists and military, but he decides on seniority based on time served on Atlantis. Since that makes him first, he looks down the row of guides. By pure luck, they're split down the middle – six men, six women; there are six male and six female guides too. Most of the women are looking over the men with interest, except one that's exchanging some heavy duty eye contact with Johnson.

And then there's the part of him that wants to take the long-haired kid just to spite Rodney, but that's what got him into the mess with the dates in the first place. He sighs. There's no way to try and pick based on not cockblocking anyone else, so he chooses one of the women. He's careful not to pick the one making friendly with Johnson. "I am Thenara," his guide says as she takes his arm and leads him off, starting to talk about the temple.

"Wait," he says, as he watches Rodney walk over to the young man he'd been staring at. They both smile nervously, and Rodney gets led away the opposite direction from John. "Where are they going?" he asks, glancing over his shoulder as Teyla and Halling take the arms of disappointed-looking young women and Lorne takes the arm of a much happier-looking one. He chuckles to himself. They've probably got that the wrong way around.

Thenara watches Rodney and his guide for a moment. "It looks like Kirten is going to the market," she says, as John waves Parrish off picking Johnson's young lady. He picks the woman next to her and she smiles up at him shyly. "Or perhaps to his home, which is past the market," she says, with a small laugh and a tightening of her arm on his.

Ronon impresses him again as he nods at one of the young men – leaving the last woman for Johnson. The scientists are all whispering about the remaining men, so John lets Thenara lead him away.

"I think I'd like to see the market too," John says. "I'm not a huge fan of temples."

Thenara looks up at him obligingly, tugging on his arm to go the other direction. "We have an outdoor market for fair weather, and the permanent stalls are taken by the earliest comers. We often get traders from other worlds. If you wanted to sell your wares, I'd suggest coming in the day before. We have many fine hotels, but often those who wish to trade stay with friends."

She smiles up at him, and he returns the smile distractedly as he tries to keep Rodney in his eyeline. Suddenly Kirten drags him into an alley, and John takes off at a dead run, ripping his arm out of Thenara's grip. He stops as soon as he sees them, Kirten pushed up against a wall by Rodney, his lean body completely covered by McKay's broader one, and being kissed like the world's about to end. Rodney has Kirten's wrists in his hands as well, and John's stomach drops, making him stumble to a halt.

Fuck.

The relief that Rodney's not in trouble is only the smallest part of what's going on in his mind, whirling to try and make sense of everything as he hears Kirtan moan and he feels a familiar thrill of excitement. The pieces fall into place, and suddenly, sexual identity crisis is back on the table.

How had he missed that it was _Rodney_ that turned him on? As Kirten throws his head back, the spike of jealousy makes John want to throw up.

Thenara catches up with him then, _of course_ she does, and puts a hand on his arm. "Colonel Sheppard, are you okay?"

John nods, catching his breath and straightening up. She takes his arm again, leading him toward the market. He spares a sidelong glance at the alleyway as they pass, and when he sees Kirten's fists clenching, his wrists still in Rodney's grip, he double clicks his radio. _"One,"_ Teyla says over the radio, followed immediately by Ronon's _"two."_ There's silence for a second and he can hear Rodney swear, and then, in the radio and from the alleyway he hears, "three."

He feels like a complete asshole. A completely _triumphant_ asshole.

The rest of the countdown goes more or less as planned, and he lets Thenara lead him into the market. A moment later, he hears Rodney jabbering away as Kirten leads them into the market too. It's a strange mix of food, clothing, weapons, and jewelry, and he checks every weapons stall for some version of Ronon's blaster. Rodney's been wanting to take it apart forever, but Ronon won't let him.

Rodney must find something interesting, though, because he and Kirten get hung up at what looks like a weapons stall until John gets closer and realizes it's more of a junkyard. There're bits and pieces of all kinds of stuff.

"Hey," John says, and Rodney looks up at him and grins.

"Colonel," he says, and holds up a piece of equipment with scorch marks on one side. "Look what I found!"

John has no idea what it could be; it doesn't look Ancient. He takes it from Rodney and turns it over in his hands to be sure. "No, no, no," Rodney says, snatching it back. "It's a coil from a converter ring."

Of course it is. The problem with finding something in the market is that they don't have any money, or anything to trade. John's about to empty his pockets, as sometimes the unlikeliest of things will catch a trader's eye when Rodney says, "Hey, I can fix that."

They haggle a bit and Rodney has to fix two other machines too, but he walks off with his coil in one hand and Kirten in the other. "See you at lunch, Colonel," he shouts over his shoulder.

John tries not to grumble. There are several things in the junk heap he'd been eyeing, but without Rodney's expertise, he has no way to trade for them. He double clicks his radio out of spite, but Rodney seems cheerful when he chirps his "three" into the radio a few seconds later.

+++++

About ten minutes later Thenara leads him away from the market and to the center of town, to the place John mentally calls their guild hall. There are huge tables set up, most with a collection of people already eating, but two long ones pushed together and set for about thirty people. John's the first one to arrive, and Thenara leads him to his place and pours him something to drink. The Kirdnal have a terrific fruit punch sort of drink that John's always been fond of, so he takes a sip as he watches people file back in. Teyla is chatting pleasantly with her guide, as is Ronon, who grips the arm of his guide before sitting. Lorne's guide looks pissed and he looks harassed within an inch of his life, but they're the only ones that seem unhappy. Rodney and Kirten are the last to come in, half-jogging the length of the hall to take their seats.

Teyla's at the head of the table with Halling on her right hand side and her guide on her left. The trade minister is on the other end of the table, and he raises his glass in a toast. "To successful trading, may the Ancients bless both our peoples," he says. John raises his glass and drinks. He and Rodney are going to have to come back to the market; there were a lot of things he would have liked the chance to look at more closely.

The luncheon is a reasonably timed affair; apparently these people have work to do and they're not the sort to feast all day for one successful trade negotiation. John likes that, beyond getting him back home at a decent hour, it means they've got more going on than trade with the Lanteans, and makes them less likely to do something desperate someday, like kidnap his team to make Rodney fix things.

+++++

It takes an hour to get the jumpers unloaded and the animals into their pens on Athos, and afterward John makes sure he's got his quarters set up for the Spring Festival. There are huts and tents dotting the woods where the stage has been set up, some sturdier than others. He'd planned his with Teyla weeks ago, and they'd made a pretty sturdy little hut, complete with a slatted bed and soft mattress. He's not bad with his hands, but he would never have been able to make the bed himself. The last time he visited they'd put the roof on, but the hut had been empty. Teyla tells him Jinto and Halling made it for him, and that she made the mattress. He sits on it and sinks in, surprised at how soft it is.

"What's it made of?"

"The moss that grows on the trees outside the village," she says. He takes a whiff but can't smell anything but the clean laundry scent of the sheet she'd stuffed with it.

"Cool."

They leave Teyla and Halling on Athos and head home, Rodney and Ronon talking excitedly about the festival now. John lets their conversation fill the void as he determinedly doesn't think about anything except flying and the feeling of anticipation for the Spring Festival. Neither one seems to notice his distraction, they keep chattering away, even as they get out of the jumper and John heads to the gateroom to check in.

"Sheppard," Rodney says, and John stops in his tracks. "Are we still on for tonight?"

 _Shit_. Part of him panics and tells him to cancel. He can say he's tired.

"Yeah," he says, mentally kicking himself. "I'll bring the movie to your quarters after I debrief Woolsey."

"'Kay," Rodney says, and goes back to his conversation with Ronon.

+++++

John's nerves are back as he brings the movie to Rodney's room. Part of him figured the whole gay thing would be easier with Rodney, since it's Rodney's fault for the sexual identity crisis in the first place. It's not easier. He feels the same nervous excitement as he did with Brian, and that makes him feel even more nauseous.

"Race to Witch Mountain?" Rodney exclaims, and John can't help a laugh.

"You said stupid and funny," John says, laughing.

"No," Rodney says, but he's grinning now, " _you_ said stupid and funny. And I get the next three movie picks for this one."

"Oh, come on," John says. "I know you like The Rock."

Rodney grumbles under his breath as he takes the movie out of John's hands and sets it up. He bought the largest, highest definition monitor he could find while they were stuck on Earth, and then he bought a king size bed, a sectional sofa, a gigantic refrigerator, and an espresso machine that belongs in Seattle somewhere. The apartment he chose feels more like a rec room than Rodney's quarters; probably because they all hang out here in their free time and Rodney doesn't sleep much – or need a whole lot of privacy, apparently.

John checks the fridge while Rodney fiddles with the DVD, grabbing a couple of beers and looking for something to snack on. Nothing really interests him and he moves over to the pantry where Rodney stores his MREs and snacks. He grabs a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos and heads back to the couch, choosing the long end so he can stretch out. Rodney sits next to him, pulling the lever so the footrest pops up and they look like grumpy old men.

"So," Rodney says in between previews. "Tomorrow's my last date."

_Damn it._

"Ever?" John asks, trying to sound mocking even though the nausea has returned with a vengeance.

"Ha ha," Rodney says, knocking John's hand out of the way to get into the Doritos bag. "It's the last one you have to set up for me."

"Oh, right," John says, "I almost forgot." He _had_ forgotten, actually, and there is no way anyone but John is going on that date tomorrow, so he's going to have to disappoint Dr. Atlass.

"Well, thank you," Rodney says, "I know it's been a tough couple of months."

"Just doing my court-ordered duty," John says. "Hope you had fun."

Rodney smiles, looking like his mind is elsewhere. "I did."

The Rock finally shows up on screen and Rodney's eyes focus as he munches on a handful of chips. "So who's my date for the Festival?"

John chokes on a bit of chip, coughing and grabbing his beer to wash down the sharp edges. "I'm not telling you, you know I never do."

"Come on," Rodney says. "Is it someone I know?"

"I'm not telling you," John insists, turning up the volume on the movie.

They watch the movie, laughing and mocking and John forgets for minutes at a time that he wants this to be a date. Every time he remembers, his stomach goes all haywire again, and he has to stop snacking and drinking for a while. Then Rodney'll make some cutting remark about the ridiculousness of the aliens and everything goes back to a normal movie night.

Rodney brings him a second beer somewhere in the middle and he starts to get comfortable, resting his head on the back of the couch and watching the movie sideways for a while. "Don't fall asleep," Rodney says, throwing John a blanket. "You remember how sore you were last time you fell asleep on the couch."

He remembers. The couch is comfortable to catnap on, but he was practically limping when he climbed off it the morning after their last team movie night. He debates asking Rodney if he could sleep in his gigantic bed, but it's both too forward and too subtle, as Rodney would probably let him and not even think twice. He certainly wouldn't question John's motives. The bed is big enough for the whole team to sleep on it, if they got cozy like they have to off-world, sometimes.

John sighs. The mocking has stopped as the movie got more interesting. John's always had a soft spot for AnnaSophia Robb, and he thinks she's sweet in this. Rodney has a soft spot for The Rock, and he's kind of sweet in this too. The thought makes John chuckle.

"What?" Rodney asks, turning to look at John.

"Just remembering the original from when I was a kid," John says. "It was much less cool."

"That's the seventies for you," Rodney says.

John falls asleep some time after that, and he doesn't wake up until Rodney shakes him. He glances at the TV to see the credits rolling, and Rodney pulls the blanket off him. "Come on, sleeping beauty," he says, "sleep it off somewhere else."

John whines at the breeze from the blanket being taken off and faceplants sideways into the couch. It's such a comfortable couch.

"No," Rodney says, yanking on John's arm and pulling him back up to sitting. "You're not in college anymore, Sheppard, you need to sleep in a bed."

John knows, and he pushes himself to standing, the drowsiness clearing away as he moves. He yawns, and Rodney follows suit as John stretches his arms overhead.

"Did you like it?" he asks when Rodney hands him the DVD case. Rodney rolls his eyes. "I knew you would," John says, grinning. Rodney smiles back at him and for half a second, John thinks he might lean in to kiss Rodney good night.

"So who's my date tomorrow?" Rodney asks, ruining the moment and reminding John he needs to talk to Dr. Atlass.

"Give up," John says, turning around to go back to his quarters. "It's twelve hours from now."

"Guy or girl?" Rodney asks, and John leaves, shaking his head.

+++++

John's still sleepy as he tries to figure out how to cancel Dr. Atlass's date with Rodney tomorrow morning. There's no guarantee Atlass'll check email between now and then, but he's running into the same problem he had with Brian about trying to find his quarters. Atlass is one of the scientists that isn't on a gate team and almost never goes off-world, so his quarters are several levels up, the labs he works in are several levels up, and the second mess is just under the top level of the tower. His whole life on Atlantis is in places John never frequents.

He can't even go to the upper mess and hope he gets lucky since he doesn't know what Dr. Atlass looks like, beyond "5'11" with dark hair and green eyes." He decides to start with Lorne. He stops by Rodney's lab, since it's on the way out, and no one is there. Radek's quarters are close to the lab, so he knocks on his door first. He takes a second to open the door and when he does, he's flushed and his hair is wild. "Colonel," he says in surprise.

At least he's fully dressed, John thinks. "Hi," he says, and decides to forget the niceties. "I was looking for Lorne – I need him for something."

"He's not here," Radek says, grinning. "He wasn't in his room? I thought he'd be sleeping by now."

"Damn," John says. They get more sleep with their schedules on twenty-eight hour time, but it's a bitch on the scheduling. He tends to stay up later – he always was a night owl – but he knows Lorne goes to bed at the regular time and gets up before dawn. "I forgot. Maybe I'll find Wagner instead."

"Oh, I saw her in the mess fifteen minutes ago," Radek says helpfully. "Picking up snacks for poker night."

"Perfect," John says, "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Radek says, and turns away from the door. John hesitates; Radek may be the only person he can talk to about Rodney without being too weird. They see each other from time to time, but they're not exactly friends, and they only work together when things have gone horribly wrong, He wouldn't have to –

"Colonel?" Radek asks, and John has never realized how weird it is that Radek calls him by his rank all the time. Not even Sheppard, like Rodney does. John is not a name he gives out as an invitation, though, and no one here calls him Shep. Every base he's ever been on it's been the automatic nickname; he's never figured out why it hasn't caught on here.

John looks up, wondering how to have a conversation with someone who calls him by his rank, even though John switched from Zelenka to Radek years ago. "I..."

Radek comes back to the door, his forehead creased in worry. "Come in," he says, tugging on John's sleeve. John moves, if only because he doesn't want to even think about Rodney out in the hall. He's not sure he knows what he wants to say, or to ask, or if there _is_ anything to ask.

"Is this about Rodney?" Radek asks, and John's head snaps up at Rodney's name. Radek is remarkably observant about people; he wonders why he's not on a gate team. He'd be a hell of an asset in the field. "It is!" Radek says, smiling. Now that John's in the room, he can see a yoga mat laid out on the floor.

"I interrupted your..." John supposes yoga is a workout. Unless he was meditating.

"I just started," Radek says. "What about Rodney?"

John takes a deep breath and huffs it out, trying to figure out what to say. "Yes," he starts. Radek smiles at him with something that looks a lot like pity.

"You have decided you want to be with Rodney," Radek prompts. "Be with" is a strange way to put it, John's not quite sure how he feels about that.

"Date," John says.

"Ahhhh," Radek says, and John makes a mental note to talk to Lorne about putting Radek on a gate team. "You want to be his date, but you have already set him up with someone else for the festival."

John nods.

"That's easy," Radek says, going over to his desk and choosing one of the tablets there. "Who is it?"

"Dr. Atlass," John says.

"Anthropology?" Radek asks, and John nods. "There," Radek says, pointing at a blinking dot at the screen. He opens several drawers on his desk until he finds a lifesigns detector, and he fiddles with it for a while.

"How are you doing that?" John asks. He knows Atlantis has lifesigns detectors, but as far as he knew, they hadn't been able to tell the difference between all the blinking dots.

"Tapping into Dr. Atlass's transmitter," Radek says. "We don't do it on the main systems for privacy reasons –" John suppresses a shudder at the idea of knowing everyone's whereabouts all the time "– but it's easy enough to do when the occasion calls for it."

John nods and takes the lifesigns detector. "Thanks," he says.

"Return that, please."

"Of course," John says, and turns toward the door.

"Colonel," Radek says, and John turns around. Radek seems like he has a question he wants to ask but isn't sure how to get it out. "Rodney... you..."

John knows exactly how he feels. "Yeah," John answers, and adds, "I don't know either."

"Do you have questions?" Radek asks hurriedly, as John turns away again. "About men? I thought you had not been with men before."

John laughs. Poor Brian, having to put up with John's fumbling first attempts. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," John says, giving Radek a smile before leaving to find Dr. Atlass.

+++++

Dr. Atlass's blinking dot hasn't moved since John started staring at the screen. He's probably in his quarters, sleeping. John doesn't want to wake him up, but he doesn't want him showing up in the gateroom tomorrow, either. Invitations are only given to a few particular Lanteans. Atlass is only able to go if he is Rodney's date.

John feels guilty as he approaches the door and knocks. It's a little like having your boss show up at your apartment in the middle of the night. He can hear Atlass shuffle out of bed, and then the door slides open. Atlass going from bleary-eyed to wide awake in a flash. "Colonel Sheppard!"

"Hi, Dr. Atlass," he says, steaming straight ahead so there aren't any misunderstandings. "I'm sorry to do this to you, but I've had to rearrange Dr. McKay's date for tomorrow, and..."

Atlass, who had been looking extremely nervous, goes to looking extremely disappointed instead. "So I can't go to the festival?" he asks.

"Sorry," John says, wishing he could do something for the guy.

"Are you bringing a date?" Atlass asks, and John frowns at him.

"Jake?" a sleepy voice calls from inside Atlass's quarters. A sleepy _female_ voice. "What's going on?"

"I'll be right there," Atlass calls.

John stares at him pointedly.

"Fine," he says. "I was only going because I wanted to go to the festival. Harvest celebrations in the Pegasus galaxy! I've been to several on other worlds, but the Athosian one is by invitation only, and –"

"And you were going to have sex with Rodney to be able to go," John finishes for him.

Atlass looks guilty. John cannot believe he didn't interview this guy before he picked him for Rodney's last date. "You're straight." Which might have been obvious from the woman presumably in his bed, but John doesn't like to jump to conclusions these days. "And in a relationship."

Atlass looks at the floor, flushing bright pink. "Kira said she didn't mind the date part, as long as I didn't sleep with him."

 _Kira_. That's Dr. Merchant's name.

"How long have you and Merchant been together?" John asks.

"Not long," Atlass says, getting even pinker. "We met shortly after her date with McKay and... things went from there."

"Well," John says, needing to get out of here. "Have a nice night."

"Wait," Atlass says. "Can't I go as your date?" he asks desperately. "I don't think you understand –"

"I think I do," John says, considering Atlass was willing to screw Rodney over to go.

"Please," Atlass begs. "Please, Colonel Sheppard, I have been looking forward to this for weeks. I'll do anything."

That much is obvious, and John feels bad despite the fact that Atlass probably would've made Rodney miserable over the course of the weekend. "Fine," he says. "You can be my guest. But you're sleeping in your tent."

"Oh, thank you," Atlass says, looking like he's about to hug John. "You don't know what this means to me."

"I have an idea," John says, backing up out of hugging range and giving Atlass a tight smile before getting the hell out of there.

+++++

The gateroom is full of people milling around with bags and boxes and piles of things for the festival. John's been going to Athos with Teyla at least every couple of weeks, so he doesn't even have to carry a change of clothes through the gate. His harvest gifts and spare clothes are all tucked away in the tiny hut that basically consists of a bedroom and a chamber pot.

When Rodney comes into the gateroom, he's followed by Lorne carrying a couple of large boxes and Radek, who's not carrying anything, but who looks like he's trying not to roll his eyes as Rodney drones on to him – probably about making sure he doesn't blow up the city while they're gone. He and Lorne will be coming for the second two nights; Teldy and Simpson get the first two, and they're standing together to the left of the gate, grinning. John's never seen Teldy's hair out of her bun, and the long, blonde waterfall of it surprises him.

As soon as Rodney sees him, he turns to Radek, says, "Don't hurt my city," which Radek _does_ roll his eyes at, and makes a beeline for John. Lorne sets the boxes down in the trailer they've hooked up to the MALP and waves at him. John waves back.

"So," Rodney says, scanning the gateroom, "who's my date?"

He takes a look at Teldy, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and John says, "No."

"Oh, come on. This is the start of the date, isn't it?"

John had only meant that Teldy wasn't Rodney's date, but he's not sure how he's going to tell Rodney it's him. He'd purposely not thought about that. Rodney glances around the room. There's Teldy and Simpson, both of whom have invites and aren't bringing guests because they're only there for half the festivities; Ronon and Amelia; Mr. Woolsey and Dr. Schulze. They'll only be staying for opening ceremonies; Woolsey doesn't like to have them all off Atlantis together if he can help it. Marie is standing next to the MALP with her guest, a woman whose name John can't remember off the top of his head, Dr. Alvarez is off to one side with Captain Diette, and Chuck seems to be going solo.

"Oh," Rodney says, following John's gaze around the room. "I guess my date isn't here yet."

John's stomach drops, but before he can say anything, Rodney starts quizzing him. "Is it an Athosian? Someone I know? A man or a woman?"

Woolsey gives the order to dial, and John's never been more thankful for the sound of the gate whooshing into life as that moment. He hangs back and Rodney hangs with him, waiting as the MALP goes through the gate, followed by the Lantean contingent. Dr. Atlass comes running into the gateroom at the last second, and John had almost forgotten about him. One look at the guy, tall and lean with short black hair and green eyes, and Rodney's eyes light up.

John glares a look of warning at Dr. Atlass and jerks his head toward the gate. "Get going," he says, and Rodney snaps his head around to look at John. Atlass nods and practically runs through the gate.

"Wait," Rodney says. "He's not my date?"

John puts a hand on Rodney's back and gives him a push toward the gate. "No," John says, and Rodney's face falls.

"He's my guest," John says, and the look on Rodney's face goes from unhappy to completely miserable.

"Not like that," John says, and Rodney perks up again.

"So, it _is_ an Athosian!" he says happily, stepping into the rippling blue. John sighs and catches Rodney's hand, tangling their fingers together before it disappears into the watery veil of the gate.

+++++


	3. The Lantean Way

Rodney doesn't remember holding hands with Sheppard when he stepped through the gate; he has a moment of panic where his mind frantically flips through scenarios where they've been bonded with the equivalent of crazy glue or magic or their own sweat mixed with some random plant matter, but then Sheppard appears, looking like a deer in headlights and he realizes – Sheppard thinks he's Rodney's _date_.

"Excuse me?" Rodney says, looking down at their interlocked fingers. "What is this, a joke?"

"No," Sheppard says, but he's put on his fake-charming smile, the one that Rodney knows is reserved for the new trading partners who aren't playing with a full deck.

"I thought we'd been through this, Colonel – I'm not going on a date so you can use it as some kind of propaganda."

Sheppard glares at him as the gate winks out. "That's not what this is about."

"Oh, really?" Rodney asks. "You actually want to go on a date with me?"

There is a young Athosian woman standing to the side of the gate platform, holding a basket of flowers and looking between them nervously. "Welcome to Athos," she says, warily approaching.

Rodney glares back at Sheppard and stomps down the short steps of the platform. "Yes, hi, thank you. What is this?"

"For our guests," she explains, pulling one of the flowers out of the basket. It's wrapped with a silky ribbon that drapes down on either side. "Would you like it around your arm or your neck?" she asks, and Rodney sighs and holds out an arm. If he's allergic, the least he can do is not have it directly in his face. She ties one on Sheppard afterwards and steps back to her place next to the gate.

"Come on," Rodney grouses. "We can finish this conversation in that hut you're so desperately proud of."

Sheppard leads the way to his hut, setting a brisk pace and staying ahead of Rodney the whole way. Rodney stews about what an asshole Sheppard is and how he's not going to have anyone to have sex with during the whole fest, and that was half the reason for the thing in the first place.

The hut is small but well constructed. Looking at it from the outside, he can tell that it's also meant to be deconstructed in a hurry; it's an ingenious design. Stepping inside, there's a bed, a dresser, and a little curtained off area.

"It's certainly quaint," Rodney says, peeking behind the curtain separating the chamberpot from the main room. Sheppard grins like a proud papa.

"If you wanted to spend some quality time with me, you could have just said so," Rodney says. "It's not like I mind knocking around the festival with you; we do it every year."

Sheppard's grin fades into his blank face, the one that only shows up when he's angry or scared. Rodney's not a threat, so he has to assume something about this has Sheppard scared. "You don't date guys," Rodney says, getting in close to Sheppard to poke him in the chest. Sheppard doesn't back up, but the blank face has given way to discomfort.

"Yes I do," he says, putting a hand down on the dresser to steady himself. "You haven't heard about Dr. Rand?"

Rodney looks confused. "The botanist? Why would you date a botanist?"

"Brian?" Sheppard says, and it clicks – golfer dude.

"But I thought you said that wasn't a date," Rodney says. "You said it was a misunderstanding!"

"It was," Sheppard says, still standing close, and for half a second Rodney almost goes in to kiss him. Why is he looking a gift horse in the mouth?

He takes a step closer. Sheppard doesn't move, but he does flinch, a little movement around his eyes. "And?" Rodney says, tilting his head.

"And the second one wasn't a misunderstanding," Sheppard murmurs. His voice is low and soft, and he's looking right into Rodney's eyes now, something they don't do all that often.

Rodney puts a hand on the back of Sheppard's neck and pulls his head down a little, pressing forward the inch and a half to bring their lips together. He feels the tendons in Sheppard's neck tense up and then relax under his hand, and he pulls back after the briefest of kisses, blinking at Sheppard's face, which has gone blank again. _Scared, or angry?_ Rodney wonders.

"So is there sex at the end of this date?" Rodney asks, and Sheppard's blank expression doesn't change, but Rodney's hand is still on his neck, and he feels the ripple of tension and slow relaxation, the same as the kiss. "You've never had sex with a man before," Rodney says, and that gets a half-grin out of Sheppard.

"Wrong," he says, and Rodney drops his hand and backs up until his knees hit the foot of Sheppard's bed.

"What?" Rodney asks. "Why wouldn't you tell me?"

Sheppard shrugs. "Oh, by the way, Rodney," he says in a singsong voice, "I slept with a guy last night. Pass the salt."

"Last night?!" Rodney says.

"No," Sheppard says, rolling his eyes and huffing a breath out in annoyance. "How exactly was I supposed to bring it up?"

"You could have told me you were having second thoughts about…" He waves a hand up and down Sheppard. "Your orientation."

"I wanted to be sure," Sheppard says, and the blank face makes a reappearance. "Seems like the scientific thing to do, test your hypothesis."

Rodney rolls his eyes. "Don't even pretend you're a scientist. You'll hurt yourself."

Rodney's not quite sure where this leaves them, but he's suddenly tired of talking about it. "Come on," he says. "Let's check out my place."

+++++

New Athos is no longer a small village. It's grown into a town. There's an incongruous mix of technology; tall poles with lanterns on top lining the main street, and the familiar gray-blue of Ancient technology underneath them, the speaker system Rodney rigged to let them know when the gate opened. "You did that?" Sheppard asks, and Rodney smiles.

"Of course I did. And there's running water." Sheppard turns to stare at him. "It's hardly a feat of engineering," Rodney says. "There are pipes and pumps and all I did was send some engineers and ideas for Ancient-technology assistance to their designs."

They come to Rodney's house, a single story log cabin at the end of a row of small houses, all sturdily built. "Here we are," Rodney says, beaming. He'd been surprised to see the Athosians making houses since they'd been nomadic tent-dwellers as long as he'd known them, but Halling had told them it was time to set down roots when they'd accompanied Teyla to the settlement after a year and a half in the Milky Way. Rodney'd offered his help without hesitating. He'd offered Atlantis's help too, and Woolsey hadn't been pleased that Rodney did it without asking him first, but there was no question of Atlantis doing everything they could to help the Athosians. Rodney kept an eye on the engineering plans as they'd developed, coming to Athos to help with work here when the idiots on Atlantis made him too crazy.

Sheppard's poking his head into Rodney's cupboards, which seem to be fully stocked. He glances into the bedroom, throwing the backpack with his clothes onto the queen-sized bed. Sheppard comes in right on Rodney's heels. "That's bigger than mine," he says.

Rodney bites back the half-hearted penis joke and smirks at Sheppard. "Teyla likes me better," he says, and Sheppard rolls his eyes again.

"So," Rodney says, opening the backpack and stuffing the clothes into the dresser haphazardly. "What's the deal with your 'guest'?"

Sheppard shrugs, backing out of the room.

"He was supposed to be my date, wasn't he?" Rodney asks. There's no reason for Sheppard to bring a guest if he had been planning on being Rodney's date all along. "And you decided to take over for him?"

Sheppard sighs. "I found out he was using you to get to the festival."

Rodney's heart falls. "And you couldn't find me another date in time," he says flatly. "It's fine, Sheppard, I'll forgo my last date. Or you can set me up on Atlantis with someone else."

"Rodney," Sheppard says, glaring. "That's not why I kicked him off this date. I found out while I was doing it."

"And you still invited him along?" Rodney asks. "What is he, a linguist?"

"Anthropologist," Sheppard says, and snickers.

"You're a soft touch, Sheppard," Rodney says, laughing at him. "Did he tell you that he really, _really_ wanted to go to the festival and bat his eyelashes?"

"Something like that," Sheppard answers. He hasn't moved from his spot next to the dining room table – a beautifully crafted piece. Rodney needs to find out who made it and give them a huge tip.

"You're serious about this being a date?" Rodney asks.

"Yeah," Sheppard answers, just as the speakers go off, announcing the next group of guests has arrived.

"Okay," Rodney says as nonchalantly as he can, grabbing a kersthe out of the fruit bowl on his way out the door. "Let's take a look around."

+++++

Rodney follows John's lead as they weave their way through the woods, stopping to check out people's shelters, everything from his ex-date's pup tent to elaborate structures made under giant fir trees, using the lower branches to hang cloth as a sort of tent. Sheppard's little hut isn't the only one – there are people from several worlds that have made makeshift homes, some with cooking fires as well as beds and chamberpots. They say hi to the people they know, more than Rodney would have guessed, actually, and Sheppard does his charm thing with folks from planets they haven't met yet.

Eventually they get to the clearing on the other side of the woods where the stage is built, and Rodney's pretty pleased to see how well it turned out. They stop to chat with Jinto about the festivities planned for the long weekend.

"Tonight is the cultural demonstration," he says. "There are dancers from many worlds, a short play by the Warageinans, acrobatics by the Rakqua, and Marie is going to do something called ventrolism."

"Ventriloquism?" Rodney asks, flabbergasted.

"Oh, yes," Jinto answers. "That is the word. What does it mean?"

Rodney hears Sheppard laugh, though he can't tell whether Marie's ventriloquism or Rodney's look of disbelief is the cause. The last time Atlantis made a showing, Cadman tap danced. She was surprisingly good, Rodney has to admit. He's never known anyone who does ventriloquism before, and he's always thought it was a little creepy.

"It means throwing your voice," Sheppard answers to Jinto.

Jinto's eyes get big and round, and Rodney shakes his head. "No, no, no – it means that she makes it sound like someone else is talking, even though she's talking herself."

Jinto only blinks, so Rodney gives up on the explanation. "Never mind," he says, flapping a hand, "you'll have to wait and see."

Sheppard wraps it up, saying goodbye to Jinto and leading them back toward town so they can look over the carts in the marketplace. There are a number of food stalls, everything from various meats-on-sticks to fruit salad in a cup made out of some kind of giant nut. "We really need to get someone to make a cart with cotton candy and ice cream," Rodney says wistfully, watching Sheppard eat the fruit salad. He's too wary of mixed fruit to try it, even when Sheppard insists there's no citrus. Rodney gets a meat skewer instead, one that looks sort of like beef. It's gamey, but not overly-much, and tastes like a cross between duck and rabbit.

They tour the market, visiting all the stalls and saying their hellos to friends and allies, and Rodney almost forgets they're on a date. He does this with Sheppard every year, and they're already viewed as a package deal by most people. By the time they're finishing up, the bonfire is being lit behind the marketplace, signaling the official start of the festival. A group of Athosians, Teyla included, sing a song about the harvest, and Rodney joins in on the chorus, a chant to the Ancestors to bless their lives as they've blessed their crops. He can see Sheppard staring at him out of the corner of his eye; he sings louder.

Sheppard is still staring when the chorus comes around the second time and Rodney joins in again. Lots of people join in the chorus, it's easily three times as loud as the verse. Rodney glances over at Sheppard and raises his eyebrows on the third chorus. He knows Sheppard knows the song by now, and Sheppard plays guitar – he must be able to sing along.

Sheppard mouths the words the third time, but if he's singing, Rodney can't hear it over the sound of his own tenor. At the beginning of the fourth verse, the Athosians come into the crowd and grab the hands of people to join in the circle. Teyla chooses Sheppard and pulls him into the ring of people, and Rodney watches, jealous, from the sidelines.

Sheppard's pretty graceful for a guy – especially a guy in combat boots – but he doesn't remember the steps of the dance right away, and Rodney chuckles as they go through the motions a few times while the little band vamps the music of the chorus. When everyone seems to have the movements, they start to dance around the outside of the fire, a ring of people doing moves that look like they're straight out of a country line dance. The chorus starts again and Rodney joins in the singing, watching as the Athosians pull in another group of people, making a second ring outside the one nearest the fire. Rodney backs up with the crowd, making room for the circle to grow; half-hoping to be picked and half not. If he makes it to the end, it becomes a free-for-all and he'll be less conscious about the dancing part of it.

The inner circle comes out to pick partners, but before Sheppard can get to him, a young Belkan woman, Laerne, he thinks her name is, takes his hand and pulls him into the inner circle. Sheppard watches him go by and grabs the nearest person – a surprised-looking Amelia. They continue the dance for a while, Rodney's group catching on faster than Sheppard's did, and adding three more concentric circles before everyone joins in the line dance, a jumbled mass of people that devolves into an unchoreographed mess.

When the ruus wine is broken out, just before Teyla's welcome speech, several large jugs pass around the crowd, and Rodney realizes they forgot their mugs. They each have one, gigantic steins made by Jinto and Wex as a thank you years ago. His is in his house; Sheppard's is probably in his little hut. They can pick them up on the way to the intergalactic talent show.

Teyla's speech is heartfelt and short, welcoming everyone and wishing them blessings for many harvests to come. Halling takes the stage to let them know the cultural demonstration will be starting soon, and that there will continue to be dancing at the bonfire.

Rodney turns around to find Sheppard and head out to the talent show. The festival has always been at least part-mission, making new allies and keeping old ones close. They never drank or danced that much (the two seem to go together pretty heavily, as several barrels of ruus wine are on stands south of the bonfire), so going to the talent show meant that even if they came to the bonfire after, they'd be no more than buzzed if they decided to partake. Sheppard looks uncertain, but he's looked that way any time he's not doing something familiar, like talking to people they know or schmoozing people they don't know. Just watching him is making Rodney exhausted.

"What, you want to stick around and dance?" Rodney asks. "I hate to break it to you, but your moves were pretty pathetic out there."

Sheppard raises an eyebrow. "I can't say I've done a lot of line dancing in my life."

Rodney rolls his eyes. "We have to go get our mugs anyway, we can discuss it on the way."

It only takes a few minutes to get to Rodney's house and dig through his things to find his mug, MCKAY carved into the bottom. They head to John's hut and poke through the dresser/cupboard that has most of his stuff, but there's no mug. John's forehead creases. "I think I forgot it," he says. "I can't believe I didn't think of it when I was packing."

Rodney shrugs. "We can share," he says. "Come on," Rodney says. "Don't want to miss Marie and her dummy."

"Maybe we could skip it just this once?" Sheppard asks. "I…" He looks conflicted about how to finish the sentence. "I don't think I can sit through two hours of poetry reading and performance art."

People wander in and out of the talent show constantly, so Rodney knows it probably wouldn't be a big deal if they didn't go, or didn't go to all of it, anyway, but something about this is bothering him.

"You want to go dancing?" he asks, as a place to start.

Sheppard sighs. "I'm tired, Rodney. I want to have some wine and relax."

"You want to get drunk," Rodney says. He can't figure Sheppard out; he seems determined to have this date, but he's making himself sick over what exactly that means. He should go along with Sheppard's plan. Sheppard's a chatty drunk, saying stuff Rodney's never repeated anywhere – not even back to Sheppard if he doesn't remember the next day.

Part of him doesn't want to, though. Part of him wants John to really _be_ here, to be here because he's made up his mind and he knows what that means, and it's what he really wants.

Sheppard shrugs. "Yeah."

Rodney sighs. "All right."

+++++

When Sheppard said he wanted to get drunk, he wasn't kidding. He drinks two mugfuls of the ruus wine before he even lets Rodney have a taste, and he ends up drinking more than half of the third cup too. Ruus wine is a bit cloying for Rodney's taste – he usually waters it down. He wrestles his mug away from Sheppard to get some water, clearing out the thick aftertaste of the wine. He makes Sheppard drink some too – reluctantly, as he makes a childish "yuck" face.

The change in Sheppard is incredible; twenty minutes after they start drinking, his body and face go loose to the point he's almost unrecognizable. He's a happy drunk to start with, Rodney's always known that. He'll drink a glass of whatever they're serving at negotiations and his superficial charm gets less superficial and more charming. He usually sticks to a single glass, though, and Rodney can count on one hand the times he's seen Sheppard falling-down drunk. Twice on Athos, which is one of the only planets he feels safe on, and three times in Atlantis, and apparently beer makes him a maudlin drunk, because he's never charming and witty when he's had a six-pack to himself on the pier and Lorne asks Rodney to get him back to his quarters.

He's charming now, though, touching Rodney every once in a while. It's mostly casual, their arms rubbing together, or covering Rodney's fingers when he hands off the mug, but they make Sheppard grin every time, like he's getting away with something.

"Let's dance," Sheppard says, and Rodney has to make him repeat it to make sure he heard correctly. "Come on," Sheppard whines, and Rodney agrees, if only to get Sheppard away from the alcohol for a bit.

The dancing is more fun than Rodney expected. There are a lot of simply choreographed dances in the Pegasus galaxy, and it doesn't take long to learn to moves for those Teyla hasn't already taught them and weave their way through the crowd. Sheppard's loose-limbed and slinky, making the moves seem vaguely sexual even when they're not supposed to be.

Rodney makes him drink water from then on, only letting him have a mug of wine after two glasses of water – the privileges of being the one with the mug. They have games tomorrow afternoon and a hungover Sheppard isn't going to help him win any contests. Sheppard's already gotten talkative, letting things slip he'd never say to Rodney normally, dropping offhand comments about prom and homecoming and his wedding. Rodney nods and soaks it all in, filing it away with all the other information he has about John, things that don't need words and probably couldn't be explained in them anyway.

There's a non-line dance and Rodney decides to sit it out; he's not ungainly but he's never going to be something to watch on a dance floor. Sheppard seems like he could be at home on one, but maybe he never tried because that's not what straight guys do. A woman dances her way over to him, and while Rodney would normally shake his head and think "Kirk" at Sheppard, something clicks and he realizes Sheppard is _his_ date, and if anyone is going to dirty dance with him, it's going to be Rodney. He storms into the crowd, and the woman sees him and takes off like a startled deer. Sheppard holds his arms out to Rodney, like he's offering Rodney a hug. It's the strangest thing Rodney's ever seen him do, and there is nothing he wants more than to step into the circle of John's arms.

Sheppard grabs Rodney's hands when he gets near enough, doing some weird twisty thing that pivots their bodies together. Rodney goes with it, shocked into compliance by Sheppard's hands in his, easy as pie, like they have always danced together like this. It's simple and amusing, not serious, half-bad swing dancing and half things little kids do on the dance floor at weddings. Sheppard's grinning at him, though, and Rodney's can't help but grin back, Sheppard's infectious enthusiasm and the wine making him feel more content than he has in a long while.

+++++

They stumble back to Rodney's little log cabin sometime in the middle of the night. The crowd had thinned some, but not enough to make Rodney feel like he was one of those drunks that sits at the bar until close. After the cultural demonstration, a decent-sized crowd had come by for some dancing. Rodney watched Ronon and Amelia for a while over a mug of wine, happy because Ronon was smiling, a wide grin that Rodney almost never gets to see. Teyla and Kanaan were on the other side of the bonfire; Rodney only saw glimpses of them through the flames. Something loosens, thinking about his team here and happy, and he recognizes it as the final falling away of the off-world nervousness that he can't seem to get rid of whenever they're away from Atlantis.

Thinking about it, while he brushes his teeth and drinks another mugful of water from the sink, he wonders if he could settle here. Maybe not here in Athos, here, but somewhere in the Pegasus galaxy. He's always felt more at home out here than on Earth. He notices it more every time he goes home, and it was the worst when they were stuck on Earth in Atlantis because he’d realized it wasn't just the city he was missing when he'd come home before – it was the whole _galaxy_.

"I can't believe you're brushing your teeth," Sheppard says, watching him from his perch at the table.

"What?" Rodney asks, miffed. "I can't sleep unless I do." Rodney finishes his mug of water and pours one for John. "Bottoms up," he says, passing over a couple of aspirin and vitamin B as well. "This will help the hangover."

Sheppard looks at him skeptically, but takes the pills and downs the mug water. "Fine, are you done now?"

Rodney's not even close to done. He hadn't expected Sheppard to walk Rodney to his house, or to invite himself in on Rodney's heels. Rodney had turned around and John was right there, as close as when they'd been dancing. "Sheppard," Rodney'd said, and backpedaled into the kitchen area. "Why don't you come in?" he asked belatedly.

"Okay," Sheppard said, and then Rodney was stuck trying to figure out what to do. He'd stripped off his sweaty shirt, wiped his face with it, and pulled out his toothbrush. Sheppard had taken a seat at his kitchen table and watched.

Now Rodney's done stalling. Either one of them has to make a move, or he has to send Sheppard to his little hut, and even though his fantasies have featured John Sheppard for the last eight years, he doesn't want to do anything while they're drunk. It seems like cheating.

"Are you planning on staying?" Rodney asks, and Sheppard's eyebrows go up impressively high.

"You don't want me to?" he asks, and great, if this is going to become one of those conversations where everyone keeps asking questions, Rodney's going to lose out of pure frustration.

"You're drunk," Rodney says. "And I'm not completely sober either. I generally avoid sex under those conditions."

Sheppard looks at him like he's grown a third head. "You don't drink before sex?"

Rodney rolls his eyes. He has a feeling Sheppard's planning on keeping up the questioning mode of conversation for a while. "I prefer my partners to consent _before_ their judgment is impaired, yes."

Sheppard doesn't seem to know what to say. Rodney can actually see the thoughts go through his mind, contorting his face as he thinks and then dismisses them. "I don't get a goodnight kiss?" he asks, his eyebrows going up again.

Rodney glares at him. "No funny stuff," he says, and John gives him a wry smile.

"Scout's honor."

Rodney rounds the table, waiting for Sheppard to stand up. He doesn't, just leans back in his chair and smirks up at Rodney. There is no way Rodney is going to sit on his lap to kiss him, so he stands next to the chair, flapping his hand at Sheppard. "Come on, lazybones. You want your kiss, come up here and get it."

Sheppard stands, unfolding out of the chair too gracefully for someone who's drunk, and Rodney realizes that even though Sheppard is only an inch or two taller than him, it feels like a lot more than that. Rodney tips his head back, and he has no idea who is supposed to be driving this kiss. Normally he's aggressive because he doesn't like to give people the chance to change their mind. With Sheppard, though, that's exactly what he wants to give, so he's hesitating, wondering what it was that made Sheppard want to be his date to the festival.

Sheppard looks at him, tilting his head and leaning in a little, and then his eyes go wide and he puts a hand on Rodney's shoulder, except he's pushing Rodney away, not pulling him close, and he falls to his knees and throws up all over the floor.

+++++

"This is the worst date _ever_ ," Rodney mumbles over Sheppard's moaning.

He has a half-naked Sheppard in his bed, drunk and seemingly willing, and he's cleaning up vomit and debating going to sleep in Sheppard's tiny hut. "You told me you never get sick from alcohol," Rodney says, knowing it sounds like pouting and not caring since Sheppard won't remember tomorrow anyway. "You said you'd never been so drunk you'd thrown up."

"As long as I don't eat," Sheppard says, moaning some more, and leaning over the bed to spit into the fruit bowl Rodney'd appropriated to be the puke bucket.

"You didn't eat! You haven't had anything since the fruit salad in the market!"

"The pills," Sheppard groans, flopping onto his back. "I shouldn't have taken any pills."

Rodney rolls his eyes and takes the last of the towels he's used into the bathroom. He's going to be annoyed as hell at having to clean out the tub tomorrow, but he can't get up the energy to clean the dirty, soaking wet clothes and towels out of it.

He hears Sheppard retch some more, praying he made it into the bowl, and drags himself into the bedroom. Sheppard had made it to the bowl, and filled it with a wretched smelling bile and ruus wine mixture.

"Think you can hold it long enough for me to dump this outside?" Rodney asks, and Sheppard nods his head feebly. Rodney hurries out the back door and dumps it in the patch of grass off to the side. He's not a big backyard kind of guy, but he doesn't want to step in it if he gets the urge sometime over the next few days.

He rinses the bowl in the sink before bringing it back to the bed, wiping Sheppard's forehead and mouth with a damp cloth. It seems to soothe him and he looks peaceful for the moment.

Rodney sighs and strips down to his boxers and t-shirt, climbing into the other side of the bed. It's clear neither of them is going to be having sex, and even though he's fairly certain Sheppard could take care of himself from here on out, he doesn't want to be responsible for his team leader dying of alcohol poisoning or choking on his vomit.

+++++

When Rodney cracks an eye open the next morning, he's in bed alone. He has no idea what time it could be – on top of the drinking, he can't remember how long Athos's days are. The light is streaming in cheerily, though, and he curses Halling and his ruus wine. He drags himself out of bed, noticing that the puke bucket is missing, but unable to care until he gets some coffee in him. He pulls out an MRE coffee pack and sets the coffee to boiling, poking it unenthusiastically. His stomach is turning over just thinking of the mess he's going to have to clean up in the bathroom.

He hadn't honestly expected Sheppard to be around when he woke up, but it's still disappointing. There's no note, but Rodney doesn't even know what it would say. It's not like 'went to get clean clothes' would be necessary, and it's not like Sheppard would put anything else into words, especially written ones.

The coffee kicks in after a few minutes, and Rodney remembers that Athosian days are a little over thirty-four hours long, and even though this is the harvest festival, they're not into the overly-long days of summer yet. There's still going to be nineteen or twenty hours of daylight, so even though it feels roughly like oh nine hundred Atlantis time, he knows it's still early – early enough that most people are still asleep.

After a second mug of coffee, Rodney figures he can face the bathtub. He takes a fortifying breath and opens the door to the bathroom.

It's perfectly clean. Sparkling, even. The tub looks shinier than when he first got here. He shakes his head, wondering how late it is, and how early Sheppard got up to clean the whole house and take everything out to... to...

There aren't any dry cleaners in Athos. Rodney goes back into the bedroom and opens the back door to his little cabin, and Sheppard is there, hanging laundry over a line he must have rigged himself. "Morning," he says, entirely too cheerful for someone who threw up half his insides last night.

"Morning," Rodney says, lifting his cup in greeting. He turns around and goes to take advantage of the shower. There's very little hot water so it's a short one, but even that makes him feel like a human being again.

"Thanks for cleaning," he says when Sheppard comes in from the backyard.

Sheppard shrugs. "My mess. I cleaned it up."

"No hangover?" Rodney asks, finishing up his coffee and setting the mug next to the sink.

John grins. "No hangover. I don't get them, normally."

"Yeah, well, I thought you don't puke normally, either," Rodney says, huffing in annoyance. John looks embarrassed at that, and Rodney rolls his eyes, trying to normalize this weird not-really-a-morning-after moment they're having. He gives up on it altogether and decides to make it even weirder. "I never got my goodnight kiss."

Sheppard's eyebrows go up slowly, like it takes a while for the words to sink in. "Uh," he says.

Rodney thinks about Sheppard's bender, and his determined yet reluctant attitude, and while he already has three hypotheses in mind, the one that's insistent on fitting the circumstances calls for immediate action. Rodney goes over to Sheppard, slow enough to let him get accustomed to the shrinking space between them but not so slowly that Sheppard's embarrassment will give way to panic – he hopes. The bad thing about having a front and a back door is that Rodney can't get between Sheppard and the exit. Sheppard watches him warily.

Rodney isn't sure whether he's pleased or annoyed that he can read all Sheppard's body language from missions gone wrong. He's still, ready to take advantage of an escape if he needs to, but trying to hang in there because sometimes diplomatic relations can be saved, even when the other side seems threatening.

"Am I threatening?" Rodney asks as he gets right in Sheppard's face. Sheppard's eyebrows go up again. That's surprise. It's not something Rodney sees on Sheppard's face normally, and never on missions.

"Should I be threatened?" Sheppard asks, and it strikes Rodney that Sheppard is a question-asking savant. Who knows how many things he's gotten Rodney to answer for him because he answers questions with more questions.

"I don't know," Rodney says solemnly, leaning forward, near enough that his eyes want to close in prelude to a kiss; he keeps them open but they unfocus, and Rodney lowers them to stare at Sheppard's lips. "I don't know what you want," he admits.

Sheppard wets his lips, something Rodney knows is a stall tactic so he doesn't say whatever it is that he wants to say; he's seen him use it a thousand times in trade negotiations. He waits, wondering if the words will come out.

Instead, Sheppard leans forward, kissing Rodney and bringing his hands up to Rodney's shoulders, gripping them tightly. Rodney exhales in surprise; he can feel the hot breath bounce off Sheppard's chin and back on to his own. He doesn't need to be asked twice; he curls the tip of his tongue up to tease Sheppard's upper lip, grabbing the only bit of Sheppard he can get to – his waist, since he's got Rodney's arms in a death grip.

Sheppard whimpers when Rodney pulls his tongue back, a soft guttural sound that brings Rodney right back, crashing their mouths together as Sheppard's hands move up to Rodney's neck, like he's trying to pull Rodney in. Rodney tries to return the favor, getting his hands on John's hips to pull their bodies together. Sheppard stiffens as soon as Rodney's hands are on his hips, the kiss stuttering to a halt, even though they're still in the middle of it.

Rodney pulls back to look at Sheppard and Sheppard's eyes are still closed, his face pinched and still, his mouth open a little from this kiss. Rodney lets go of Sheppard's hips, pushing their bodies apart as he does so.

Sheppard's eyes open and he looks guilty – another expression Rodney would rather never have leveled in his direction – and looks away. Rodney's mind is going a mile a minute, calculating what this means, how he needs to adjust his hypothesis.

"Sheppard?" Rodney asks, just to see what answer he'll get.

"Yeah?" Sheppard returns, and Rodney steps back, Sheppard's hands slipping off his neck and dropping to his sides. He looks resigned, like he knows he's screwed up and he's ready to accept his punishment.

"John," Rodney says, because there is no question that can come of that.

"Yeah," John says, looking at the floor, avoiding Rodney's eyes.

Rodney's hypothesis is nearly complete, with a few unknown variables that could skew it one way or another; unfortunately the only way to test it is with lots and lots of patience. "Come on," Rodney says. "We need to practice before the archery competition this afternoon."

+++++

Rodney's enjoyed archery since he had to take it in gym class. He's not a bad shot, almost never missing the target, but he's not a good shot either, almost never getting a bulls-eye, or even particularly close to the center. Sheppard's a better shot but a lousy archer. By all rights, he should be good at archery. He's got the upper body strength, he's spent countless hours on accuracy practice – with guns, fine, but it seems like developing that skill would cut across weapons lines, unless you're talking sharpshooters or snipers, and Sheppard's certainly not one of those.

Rodney has to correct Sheppard's posture here and there, and every time he puts a hand on John, he gauges his reaction. Anything on the upper body is fine; hips are absolute no-go; legs okay with clear enough warning, but only if it's not too high up. The only thing that surprises Rodney is John's hands. They're like his legs – with warning, it's fine. If you surprise him with a touch on the back of his hand, he'll jump. He jumps when Rodney touches his neck, too, but his shoulders are fine, and Rodney touches them a lot. It's an interesting data set, and Rodney files it away for later.

After their practice session, they wander over to the market to see what's on offer for a late breakfast. There's a lot of fruit – the sweet, fruity rolls from Esten and fruit salad, a different one this time, one Rodney is sure contains citrus. Sheppard takes a big bowlful, smirking while he does it. Someone is cooking eggs on the bonfire, and when they get close, Rodney realizes it's Chuck. He's got a little stand with eggs, cheese, and vegetables, and he's cooking omelets to order.

"I didn't know you could cook," Rodney says as they approach.

Chuck smiles, flipping the tomato-cheddar-onion omelet in his pan. "Breakfast is about my limit. Eggs and bacon."

"Bacon?" Rodney asks, looking more closely at Chuck's prep table.

"Sorry," Chuck says. "I had a hard enough time getting veggies out of Garcia, she wouldn't give me bacon."

Rodney has half a mind to go back to Atlantis and get some. "Damn, that would have been a good breakfast."

"I can make you an omelet," Chuck says. "Eggs have protein, too."

"But they don't taste like bacon," Sheppard observes, and Rodney looks over to see him eyeing the prep table.

Chuck slides the omelet onto a paper plate and hands it to a teenage girl who appears out of nowhere. "Colonel?" he asks. "See anything you like?"

"Yeah," Sheppard says, glancing down at the table again. "Give me the works - but no onion."

"You got it," Chuck says, and Rodney sniffs and takes a seat on one of the giant logs surrounding the gigantic fire pit. The fire's burned down some, so there are five small fires here and there instead of the massive one they danced around last night, and more than one of them has people cooking over it. Besides Chuck and his omelets, there's a woman making soup and a group of kids taking turns roasting a sheep-sized animal on a spit. Considering how well it's cooked already, Rodney wonders if they started last night sometime. He's going to have to get some of that later today. The smell wafting over makes his mouth water.

"What about you?" Chuck asks, and Rodney starts as he realizes he's almost dozed off. He glances at the table again.

"What kind of cheese do you have?" he asks.

"Cheddar, mozzarella, and monterey jack," Chuck says, grinning. "I wanted gruyère, but the chef said no to that, she was saving it for something special."

Rodney hopes he's around whenever that comes out of the mess. "All right, give me some of each. And tomato and peppers."

Chuck nods his approval and cracks eggs while Sheppard tucks into his omelet.

"Mmm," Sheppard says, closing his eyes. "This is great, Chuck."

"Thanks," Chuck says, whisking Rodney's eggs with a fork and pouring them into the cast iron skillet. Rodney's attention is split between Sheppard eating his omelet with gusto and Chuck cooking more skillfully than he would have thought over a campfire. It only takes a couple of minutes for Chuck to make Rodney's omelet, but Sheppard's packed his in by then, and he throws the paper plate into the fire before coming to sit on the log next to Rodney.

Rodney had one of the sweet rolls on their way back here, so he's hardly going to starve to death, but the omelet is good – whatever Chuck did to it is pretty tasty. Rodney wolfs it down and throws his plate into the fire, grabbing a napkin to wipe his hands. He throws that into the fire too.

"Thank you," Rodney says as they get up to leave, and Chuck nods, waving to them offhandedly as he takes orders from a gaggle of small children. He's only got a dozen and a half eggs left; Rodney's glad they smelled his station when they did.

Halling catches them right outside the fire pit, asking if they'd chaperone the children's games, as they're short-handed. Rodney would normally complain, but somehow Halling has always made him feel uncomfortable so they agree and go out to the field where a group of kids are playing a cross between dodge ball and soccer.

They don't know the rules, so when the kids call foul, they shrug and the kids roll their eyes and continue on with the game. Teyla joins them an hour into the game, passing Torren off to Sheppard as she starts to run around with the kids, calling out points and fouls. Rodney tries to work out the rules, but they're even more complex than most Earth sports, so he gives up and puts his arms up to take Torren. Sheppard gives him up reluctantly, tucking the blanket around him after Rodney settles him on a hip. Torren's sleepy but trying to keep himself awake, smacking himself with a fist every once in a while in a strangely adult sort of move for someone who's almost three.

Laerne and another young woman come by at some point, and Teyla runs in off the playing field, sweaty and looking gorgeously mussed. "Thank you for watching Torren," she says. The kids are breaking up, giving handshakes and Athosian headbutts and whole arm gripping in the Satedan style. "I am very hungry," she says, taking Torren's hand. "Shall we see what there is to eat?"

It's only been an hour and a half since they were last at the market, but all the food has changed. The meat skewers are back, and the fruit bowls, and some kind of candied nut in finely woven mesh bags. Rodney hadn't thought he'd want to eat again, but they're carving up whatever was on the spit earlier and it smells mouth-wateringly good. There are a lot more people milling around as Rodney lines up to get a plateful of meat. Most of the Athosians and several of their friends from Omess, Drayl, and Samash are waiting in line. Sheppard's in the middle of a group, smiling and nodding at the conversation. Rodney brings the plate over and they eat with their fingers while he listens to someone from Omess talk about their irrigation troubles, biting his tongue to keep from offering Atlantis's services. He makes a mental note to get Sheppard to schedule Lorne's gate team to go, with the addition one of the engineers.

When their plate is empty, Sheppard takes it to one of the washing areas, cleans it up, and brings it back to the group of Athosians who have nearly carved up the entire animal. Halling is already putting another one on the spit, this one the animal that looks more like a pig, and Rodney has high hopes for bacon at one of the evening meals.

Rodney's a power napper by nature – twenty minutes is refreshing and doesn't make you want to roll over and sleep until morning – but with thirty-four hour days, just the idea of twelve more hours of daylight in front of him makes him want to curl up under the covers for a couple of hours. Before he can tell Sheppard his plan, though, they run into his not-date.

"Colonel," he says brightly, looking like a kid in a candy shop. "I wanted to say thank you –"

"Don't mention it," Sheppard says, an edge to his voice that even the hapless scientist can hear.

"Sheppard, I don't think you've introduced me to your _guest_ ," Rodney says, and Sheppard snaps his head around so hard that Rodney's worried about whiplash.

"Dr. Atlass," Sheppard says coldly, "This is Dr. McKay."

"Oh, I know," Atlass says with a shrug. "I'm sorry –"

Sheppard glares at Atlass and he stutters, stopping before he can finish his apology. "No apology needed," Sheppard says, his voice closed-off. "Enjoy the festival."

Rodney smiles apologetically at Dr. Atlass and grabs Sheppard's arm to pull him away. "Yes, enjoy the festival," Rodney says, yanking Sheppard's arm back toward town.

"I want a nap," Rodney says. "I really can't stand twelve more hours of daylight."

Sheppard nods and follows him silently. Normally they're good with silence; with Sheppard, Rodney doesn't have the desperate urge to fill in all the quiet spaces with words. This silence is heavy, though, awkward, and Rodney knows he's probably going to have to do a lot of talking before anything happens, and a lot of hypothesizing, too.

When they get in the house, Rodney pulls off his shirt and kicks off his shoes. He debates keeping his pants on, but it's nearly midday and too hot to be bashful. "Come on," Rodney says, climbing into the bed and scooting toward the wall to leave Sheppard plenty of room. "It's siesta time. No one's going to be up and about anyway."

Sheppard's all in black – Rodney would've expected him to wear something less forbidding, but that's Sheppard for you – so Rodney knows he must be hot. "You'll feel better without all the clothes," Rodney says, and when Sheppard smirks at him, Rodney rolls his eyes. "That's simply the truth, not a play to get you into my bed half-naked. Or maybe it is, but I'm not planning on starting anything. It's too hot, anyway."

It isn't too hot. The houses are designed well; there's a nice breeze passing through, not to mention Rodney feels a lot better just being out of the sun. He's still tired, though, so he curls onto his side, watching Sheppard slowly undress, folding and stacking each piece of clothing neatly, and Rodney's almost asleep when the bed finally dips as it takes Sheppard's weight. He smiles and lets himself drift into sleep.

+++++

Rodney wakes up warm and comfortable. He has no idea what time it is, but there is plenty of far-off noise to tell him festivities have resumed with a vengeance. There's music coming from somewhere and Rodney can hear a gaggle of kids running around and laughing, probably on a sugar high. Sheppard is still sleeping, on his side with his back to Rodney, legs tucked up. He looks ridiculously vulnerable for a man who could kill Rodney with his bare hands. "What am I going to do with you?" Rodney murmurs.

The bed is in a corner; to get out of it, Rodney would have to climb over Sheppard. There's no real need yet, and Rodney's not tired of staring down at Sheppard in his bed, either, so he watches, thoughts galloping off to the problems they've had with the ZPM output. Radek thinks it has to do with the conduits, and Rodney's not sure he's wrong. Sheppard rolls over, a choppy, irritated move, and lies on his back, spreading his legs and arms a little. His right arm brushes Rodney's thigh, and Sheppard's eyes snap open and he sits up, alarm written all over his face.

He looks down at Rodney and relaxes immediately, flopping back down onto the bed and shifting onto his other side. "Sorry if I scared you," Rodney says.

Sheppard shakes his head. "Usually waking up with someone else in my bed means I'm in the wrong bed," he says. Rodney's always wondered why he kept that tiny twin bed in his room. It's a stupid reason, but it's a very _Sheppard_ reason.

"So we need to talk about this date," Rodney says, and the simple smile Sheppard had had when he laid back down is replaced with a frozen smile, a reaction Rodney's seen a million times when the people they're negotiating with suddenly say they need the team to be cleansed, or to offer something to their god, or prove their trustworthiness. "I know," Rodney says. "And I can do most of the talking – for now – but you need to at least give me signals that I'm on the right track. Something more than shrugs or eyerolls would be preferable."

"What, like, blink once for yes and twice for no?" Sheppard says, amusement back in the twist of his not-really-a-smile.

"Something like that," Rodney says. "Some of this stuff needs definitive answers, John. I'm not going to try to keep guessing where your boundaries are, and what your intentions are."

Saying John's name suddenly makes this much more real; he knows Sheppard is John, but he's _not_ , not really, not most of the time. They're friends; they're even good friends, but the difference between Sheppard and John is huge and Rodney realizes that this could be a permanent change in the way he separates the two.

John nods. _Oh, I'm in trouble_ , Rodney thinks. The ease with which the name John comes to him is frightening, but not as frightening as how badly he wants it, how much he knows that John is the name he keeps in the private spaces, in the fantasies he tries not to let himself think about any more.

"You've dated and had sex with exactly one man, right?"

John nods. Rodney hates Rand right then, a piercing red stab of rage for someone he doesn't even know.

"You did it as a test?"

John nods again. Rodney takes a deep breath and sighs heavily.

"Your conclusion?"

John's shoulders go up in an awkward shrug. "Wasn't my thing."

"And yet, here you are on a date with me. So either you've reconsidered..." John shakes his head. "...or for some reason you believe it will be different with me."

John stiffens. Rodney watches him, willing himself to stay calm, to wait for whatever John might have to say. He stares at Rodney for a long moment, raises a shoulder in a half-shrug, and nods.

 _Okay_ , Rodney thinks. He tries not to preen, but he can't help the corners of his mouth coming up into a smile. John smiles back at him, looking less nervous than when they started this. "Did you hate everything you tried with Rand?"

John's face bunches up and Rodney can read the conflict in his eyes easily. He's not quite sure why he ever thought John was hard to read. "No, but you can't separate it out," Rodney answers for him. "Right?"

The relief on John's face is enough to make Rodney relax, and he takes the moment to start the speech he's been preparing since his hypothesis was mostly confirmed on the archery range. "Okay, so, here's what we need to make this work." John freezes, but he only looks wary, not really afraid, not angry or upset, so Rodney goes full steam ahead. "I hereby give you permission to try anything you want with me."

John raises an eyebrow and Rodney nods reassuringly. "Really. I'm game for almost anything, and if you happen to hit something that bothers me, I'll say 'stop' or 'no' or, well, I might try to punch you, but I'm sure you'll be able to block that." John's face is half amusement, half disbelief. "What? I've got a tickle reflex," Rodney says. John shakes his head and rolls his eyes, finally looking somewhat relaxed.

"Okay, next. I'm not going to do anything to you unless you specifically ask me to." John's smile fades, and he looks uncomfortable again. "Don't think this won't be tough for me too," Rodney says, not giving in to John's pout. "I know it will be embarrassing for you, but if I don't know for sure and you end up doing something you don't really want to because I'm pressuring you, then it's going to kill me, and without me around, Atlantis would fall apart. So embarrassing it is. You let me know what you want and I will do it to the best of my ability."

John swallows. "What if I don't know what I want?"

"I'm sure you don't." Rodney grins, and John gives him a weak smile. "That's what experimentation is for."

+++++

The announcement for the archery contest comes over the PA system before Rodney can suggest they make out for a while, see if John can figure out _something_ he likes, and they get dressed and head down to the range.

There are several competitions, one purely for accuracy that John enters but doesn't even come close to winning. He's not even in the top ten, not that it's a huge surprise. Rodney can't be sure he'd even win a firearms accuracy competition, though he's obviously more skilled at guns than bows and arrows. The team challenge is one they've entered for last three festivals they've attended, and they always do abysmally because it's one thing to fire arrows at a target and a whole different thing to try and replicate a spread done by someone else. He shoots first, leaving Sheppard to try matching his haphazard design. He doesn't even try to hit the bulls-eye anymore; sometimes getting a wider spread is actually easier for the second shooter. Jinto taught him that, back when Jinto was still small enough for John to carry him on his shoulders.

John does a halfway decent job of following up his arrows, most within an inch or two, and only one that's nowhere near the rest. Then it's John's turn to create a spread, and he drops into the zone; Rodney can feel it, a shift in the way he holds himself that tells him Sheppard's focus is narrowed down to himself and the target. Rodney's seen this on Sheppard a couple of times, but mostly when he's herding them out of some dangerous situation or other. Rodney's read some pop psychology pieces about being in the zone in athletics, and it translates aptly to his own focused concentration when he's working on something and he knows he's on the right track. It's a combination of focus and adrenaline, he thinks, and as Sheppard shoots three perfect bulls-eyes in a neat little triangle, he groans inwardly, knowing there's no way in hell he's going to be able to come anywhere close.

When they switch archers, Sheppard puts a hand on Rodney's arm, looking Rodney in the eye with a stare of, "Don't fuck this up." For a second, he's John again, giving Rodney's arm a familiar squeeze, but then the Sheppard mask is back on, and Rodney takes a deep breath and looks at the target. He slows his breathing, concentrating on the way the arrows _should_ move from his bow to the target, the formulas writing themselves in his mind as background chatter. He can feel his own adrenaline kicking in, intensifying his focus until his whole world is represented by the bulls-eye, the round, straw-stuff canvas painted pink and aqua and mint green. He narrows down even further, looking only at the light green bulls-eye and Sheppard's three arrows, fletchings black and red.

His first arrow lands on the border between the bulls-eye and the next ring; it's not too bad, within an inch of Sheppard's uppermost arrow. He concentrates harder and tries to calculate where the error was that caused him to be too high; windspeed, maybe. He adjusts his sight and lets the second arrow fly, landing it in the second ring, to the right of Sheppard's lowest arrow, within a couple of inches. His hearing has gone now, the sounds reduced to his heartbeat and breathing, and he slows them again, narrowing his focus to the three arrows in the bulls-eye, staring at them and feeling the way his arrow is going to fly, and what he needs to do, and he pulls the string back, adjusts his aim, and lets go. Watching the arrow head toward the target, he can tell the adrenaline has warped his sense of time because it takes ages for the arrow to hit the target, his breathing loud in his own ears, the calculations of their score in the background, ticking quietly along as it always does.

He hits the bulls-eye - not between Sheppard's arrows, but adding another to the triangle that makes it a rhomboid - and the world comes rushing back in to him, the crowd yelling, some of them even yelling his name, and when he turns to look, John is standing there, grinning at him like a proud papa, and simultaneously like a twelve-year-old that just got the bike he wanted for Christmas. Rodney smiles too, and John comes over, pulling him in for a rough hug and sneaking a kiss on Rodney's ear quickly.

It's the best he's ever shot, and the only time he's ever felt truly in command of his body in a sports situation, so he calls it a win, even though they only get third place. Halling and a buddy of his, boyhood friends who have been playing this game their whole life, take second, and two women Rodney doesn't know win the grand prize with an impressive cluster of arrows, each one with a partner less than a half-inch away.

After archery, everyone tromps over to the bonfire, where the pig-like animal that's been roasting all day smells unbelievably good. They grab plates and wander around, talking to old friends and Sheppard making new ones like they're going out of style. Rodney doesn't like to think he's elitist, even though he knows he is, but watching Sheppard schmooze like he's training to be world champion makes him wonder about what Sheppard was like as a kid. Did he do all the formal events where you learned to make small talk with anyone about anything while the piano tinkled softly in the background? Was he taught the way to acknowledge political concerns without ever giving a promise and yet still leave everyone smiling like they'd gotten some concession? He's never looked up Sheppard's family, but he has an urge to now. He wants to piece together John's history; he wants to know if John's the way he is because of it, or despite it.

Rodney lets John wander after the third or fourth diplomat and seeks out some of his own acquaintances. He finds Enia, the young woman who heads up the Athosian engineering team, and she tells him about all the things they've implemented since he was here last, and her city development plans, which include everything from a sewage treatment plant to mapping out the streets for ease of access. Rodney tells her to go at least three times the size she was thinking, and tells her they should go on a field trip to M33-C98, one of the larger Pegasus cities that's still mostly standing. It's deserted, and Rodney'd taken a team to check the place for anything of use, but it'd creeped him out, the silence of a city that size, no bodies in sight, and everything in place like it was a stage set for a play, left mid-action as if the rapture had happened or something. He kept looking over his shoulder for zombies. Still, the engineering had been good, except for the streets being too small considering the size of their buildings.

Enia nods and they decide to go through the gate for a while the last day, to take a look at M33-C98's city planning and architecture and to give Rodney a break from all the socialization. John finds him when the dancing starts, and Rodney expects to be pulled away to go back to his little house, but John drags him into the square dance – one of the three dances Teyla taught them – and Rodney rolls his eyes and goes along with it.

They get into the part he thinks of like a four-square, and then the partner-swap happens and he's dancing with a young Athosian girl he knows by face but not by name. She looks a little put out, and he supposes she'd rather have danced with Sheppard, but Sheppard is off with a middle aged woman from Losirnia, smiling and chatting at her. Rodney keeps up with the line dance, only stepping the wrong way once, and that's only because he forgot his partner was supposed to lead at the kicking part. They four-square again and Rodney's back with Sheppard, who's still grinning at the woman he's leaving behind.

"We better not get any unexpected visitors," Rodney says, and it's only then that he realizes he expects John to spend the next three nights at his place, with much more certainty than he expects anything else, like sex, or making out, or even kissing. His bed's big enough for them both even if they were only staying like teammates.

John grins at him, sly, and Rodney knows he's thinking along the same lines. "I mean, you don't have to –"

"I want to," John says, and twirls around once, clapping his hands. "Maybe I should give Atlass my hut."

Rodney swallows, proof that he was right about John finally settling in. "Seems a shame to waste it," Rodney says, trying to stay neutral. John laughs, turning back around the other way and clapping again.

The dance turns into a free-for-all, twirling and clapping and groups of kids doing the four-square part, and John grins at him and turns around, scanning the crowd. He sees Atlass before Rodney does, and makes a beeline for him. Rodney leaves them, partially because he doesn't want it to be too obvious that John's staying with him and partially because while he's sort of flattered that John was looking out for him enough to realize his date would've been using him, he's also kind of annoyed at Atlass for thinking it would be okay.

John comes back over, smiling and loose-limbed, and generally looking happy. They haven't had even a little alcohol today, so Rodney has to chalk it up to being able to let his hair down for a change. He wouldn't think that schmoozing and small talk were John's comfort zone, but they seem to be. He's in his element here, and despite the way he's always been able to charm the locals, Rodney had never thought of it like that before.

"Let's blow this pop stand," John says, and Rodney feels his heart jump into his throat at the words. It's early on Athos; there's a whole evening's worth of activities yet, but Rodney's not complaining as he and John walk back to his little house in companionable silence.

When they arrive, Rodney takes his cues from John, but John suddenly feels much less at home than he did in a crowd of a hundred people. He's fidgeting and looking around like he's casing the place. Rodney does feel a little bad that the only places to sit are at the kitchen table or on the bed, but since they're supposed to be making their way to the bed anyway, he decides to be forward about it. He kicks off his shoes and climbs in, still fully clothed. They've got plenty of time to get naked, if that's where this is going, and he's not sure he wants it to right away. There's a lot he wants to learn about John Sheppard before they get to more involved sex.

John sits on the side of the bed, hunched over with his back to Rodney. The shift in his mood is palpable. "I really have to ask?"

Rodney takes a deep breath. "No," he says, trying to sound archly annoyed. "You can do whatever you want to me, but you have to ask me to do things to you. Way to pay attention."

"That's..." John makes a frustrated noise and Rodney hears one of his boots thump to the floor. "I _know_."

"Well, come over here and ravish me, then," Rodney says, and John turns around to look at Rodney with the most gobsmacked look Rodney's ever seen on his face. "Pretend I'm one of your many conquests."

John turns around long enough to get his other boot off and then slides onto the bed, curled up on his side, facing Rodney. "I don't really have any conquests," John says. "I'm the one who gets... conquested."

Rodney snorts out a laugh. "Oh, you delicate princesss, you. Fine. What do you want me to do?" He leans up on one elbow, and the shift in John as he has to look up at Rodney is amazing. The loose-limbed grace is gone, a fine tension in his entire body, and his eyes widen as his mouth opens into a tiny 'o' shape. Rodney makes a mental note and leans down to put his mouth right next to John's. "You want me to kiss you?"

John nods, just enough motion that his upper lip touches Rodney's and Rodney closes his eyes and forces himself to ask, "With tongue?" As soon as he says it, John's tongue comes out to trace the line of his lower lip and Rodney leans down to get their mouths properly together, the hand not holding his weight going automatically to John's face.

John reaches for his hand, twining his fingers into Rodney's and pulling it away from his face. He's still kissing Rodney enthusiastically, so Rodney goes with it and lets John pull their hands down to the bed. Rodney shifts to redistribute his weight, pressing John's wrist into the soft mattress with the heel of his hand and John groans a little, his chest arching off the bed to bump against Rodney's. Rodney pulls back, breathing harshly into the space between them. "Tell me what you want, John."

"Keep asking." John says.

Rodney rolls his eyes. Trust John to turn Rodney's only requirement around on him. "Can I bite your neck?" Rodney asks, and John turns his head to the side, offering his neck in a beautiful long line for Rodney to look at. He's never been into biting before; something about John seems to want it. He leans down, grazing his teeth along the muscle under John's ear, and settling in for a soft bite at the base of it where it meets John's collarbone. John arches up again and Rodney starts to get a read on John's signals.

"Can I take your shirt off?" Rodney asks, and John's eyes fly open. The look he gives Rodney is one of discomfort, like he doesn't want to, but there's something else there, like he wants to do what Rodney wants him to. _Great_ , Rodney thinks. John's psyche is like a gigantic minefield; he's going to have to tread very carefully. "No, okay. How about if I bite your nipples through your shirt instead?"

That gets him a look of utter confusion, but John nods, his eyes wide as he looks up at Rodney and follows Rodney's movements closely. Rodney tongues the cotton of John's t-shirt, trying to get enough of a rise out of his nipple to be able to find it. Rodney bites big circles on John's right pec, trying to find some kind of reaction, and finally, he can feel the little nub through the fabric. John huffs out a breath, sounding surprised, and Rodney goes to town, alternating between biting John's nipple and sweeping his tongue over the fabric, which probably doesn't soothe at all, since the cotton is rough and wet. John makes a choked noise, and when Rodney looks up, John's head is thrown back and his eyes are closed.

"No one's ever played with your nipples, huh?" Rodney asks, shifting his weight so he can play with the other one. Their hands are still twined together, and when Rodney puts weight on it, John makes a pleased humming noise. Rodney can't help rolling his eyes; thank god John's too distracted to notice. Only John Sheppard could have such obvious sexual hot buttons and never have anyone press them. He takes John's other nipple into his mouth and tightens his fingers in John's.

John's hips start shifting as Rodney continues to play with John's nipples. He could ask for permission to do something else, but he wants John to make the next move. He keeps at it, biting one nipple and pinching the other, and John keeps arching up and shifting and Rodney knows it's only a matter of time before he finally says something.

"Please," is the word that comes out of John's mouth. It's hot as hell, and Rodney can't help himself when he asks, "Please what, John?"

John is trembling under Rodney's hands. He's pushing against Rodney where their hands are threaded together – not enough to dislodge them, but a little – and he keeps arching his chest up, into and away from Rodney's mouth and hands, like he's trying to get away but then discovers he misses the sensation. "Please, fuck, _please_ Rodney!" John says, almost a shout by the end, and arches up harder.

"What do you want, John?" Rodney asks in a low voice, and John lets out a moan. Rodney's still playing with one nipple, but it's enough of a reprieve for John to settle back on the bed. "I need a little direction here. I can bite you all over your body –" this gets another load moan "– or maybe suck your cock?"

John's head snaps up and he stares at Rodney. "Both?" Rodney asks, since it seems like John's lost nearly his entire English vocabulary.

"Fuck," John whispers, letting his head drop back down to the bed. "Yes."

Rodney grins. He'll save the blowjob for last. He sits up a little, bringing their joined hands closer. He disentagles himself from John and starts there, sucking on John's fingers. John's hips shift again, and he make little breathy noises, at least until Rodney bites the thick muscle on the outside of John's palm. Then he starts moaning again, and continues as Rodney swipes his tongue along John's palm. Rodney would keep teasing him for a while, but he's got a lot of ground to cover, so he experimentally licks and bites his way up John's arm. Licking doesn't do much for John, except in very specific places, like his palm, or the inside of his elbow. Biting works _everywhere_ , though, and John is a master of non-verbal communication. He doesn't say a word, but by the time Rodney's chewing on his shoulder, he can tell how sensitive John is by the sounds he makes. Moaning is good, breathlessness is good, and there's a wailing sort of sound he makes when Rodney has hit one of his favorite spots. So far it's the top of John's shoulder, his palms, and his nipples, but Rodney's got a long way to go yet.

John's still in his t-shirt, which is patchy with wet spots all over, and Rodney goes with his gut feeling and leaves it on, rucking it up so he has access to John's stomach. It's too sensitive for biting, even though he's got some truly bitable muscles, and Rodney runs his tongue over them while John moans. The lower he gets, the louder John gets, and Rodney can smell him through his pants, so it's past time that they lose some clothes. He unbuttons John's BDUs and presses the flap wide, letting his hands skim over the wet spot on John's boxers and listening for the accompanying moan. John is quiet, though, and when Rodney looks up at him, John's staring down at Rodney like he's trying to read Rodney's mind.

Rodney remembers the thing John has about his hips, and he has a sudden flash of inspiration. "Can I take these off?" he asks, slipping his fingers under the waistband of John's boxers. John gives him a single little nod and Rodney doesn't hesitate, just strips John's pants and boxers off with ruthless efficiency. He settles between John's legs, getting his hands on John's hipbones and pressing him into the mattress.

John's been breathing shallowly, holding it for long seconds in between. He's holding his breath now. Anticipation, Rodney thinks, and maybe a little fear. Rodney licks just inside John's hipbone, a circle of musky-smelling skin. His mouth is watering for John's cock, which is _right there_ , but Rodney's got a better idea, and the cocksucking is just going to have to wait.

John hasn't moved his hands from wherever Rodney put them, but with that single touch of Rodney's tongue, they're suddenly down by Rodney, clutching at his shoulders and hair.

"Here," he says, taking one of John's hands and putting it palm side up next to John's hip. John puts the other one down as well, and when Rodney rests his forearms on top of John's hands, John grips them tightly. Rodney can feel his own cock stirring at that. He's been half-hard the whole time, but while exploring John's body is fun, it's not the stuff Rodney's fantasies are made of. John grabbing at him while he sucks John's cock, though – that's definitely in the top ten.

Rodney continues his work on John's hips, licking the sensitive skin and feeling John's fingers clench and release on his arms, hearing John's moaning get more urgent. "Please," John says again, and Rodney thinks he may have to spend some serious time figuring out how to make John beg for everything.

John keeps raising and twisting his hips, trying to press his cock into the side of Rodney's face, or maybe to get him to start the blowjob already. "John," Rodney says, and John's body goes utterly still. Rodney marvels at his self-control. "Don't move." He presses down on John's hipbones with his hands so he gets the idea. John doesn't say anything, but he's not moving, either, so Rodney grazes his chin along the skin inside John's hipbone, his cheek rubbing against John's cock in the process. He can feel John's hips stutter and stop, and John squeezes his fingers into the muscle of Rodney's forearm. Rodney's going to have bruises tomorrow.

Rodney does it again, just a little pressure with his chin, and he turns his head just enough to the side that his lower lip catches on John's cock on the way up. John's hips jump up again, and John's started panting with the effort of suppressing his natural tendency to get his cock brushing Rodney's face, or brushing his lips, or in his mouth already. Rodney keeps going, keeps teasing John's cock and using the sensitive skin inside the cradle of his hips to make him squirm, grinning to himself as he listens to John try to keep himself from squirming.

"I can't," John says finally, his hips twisting to put his cock against Rodney's lips again.

Rodney grips John's hips and presses them down firmly, pressing his forearms down against John's hands as he does it. "Yes, you can," Rodney says, licking John's cock once. "Take it," Rodney says, putting his lips over the head of John's cock for a second and feeling the tremors all along John's body. "Take it and don't move," he says, his lips catching on John's cock as he says the words. John makes another wail then, and at the very end, Rodney goes down on him as far as he can. He can get most of John's cock in his mouth, and he moves up the shaft some and repositions and goes back down to get a little more, and John's working hard underneath him, hips stuttering and stomach trembling and fingers on Rodney's forearms like they're going to abandon him.

It doesn't take long, maybe three or four strokes up the shaft, and John's saying, "Please, please, please," like Rodney can give him anything more than he already is. Rodney thinks this may be the one disadvantage to sucking cock, being unable to do it and talk at the same time. He presses down on John's hipbones to get his message across, and that does it, John's back bows and his hips tilt down and he comes with a long, breathy string of syllables, _fuck_ and _oh_ and _Rodney_.

Rodney's not normally one to let guys come in his mouth, but he has the impression that John doesn't know it's impolite; either he hasn't had a lot of blowjobs or no one ever called him on it. Rodney's not going to be the first, mainly because it seems like giving John sex advice for people he might have sex with other than Rodney is kind of defeatist. He keeps his mouth on John's cock, moving slowly as he waits for John to get through his stuttering aftershocks. Rodney's never been with a guy who came like that; most of the guys he's been with come like an explosion and are done in seconds, and the women… well, they were diverse enough not to have a trend, but none of them lasted any longer than a few seconds, at any rate.

John stills, and Rodney can feel the tension that's back in John's body. He crawls up the bed, curling up next to John – he doesn't want to cuddle, exactly, but John looks like he needs _something_. Rodney puts a hand on his stomach, lets the weight of his arm press it down into John's muscles, and John relaxes, his face smoothing out, and shifting easily into the blank slate of sleep.

It's still relatively early; Rodney isn't tired but he's not interested in leaving the bed, either. He starts making a mental list of things he and John are going to have to find a way to talk about. _Bondage, submission, painplay, marking_. Maybe John's weirdness about his sexuality isn't because he never figured out he's a little bit queer, but because he never figured out he's a little bit kinky. He probably _still_ doesn't understand.

Rodney sighs. He's not exactly vanilla, but this is new enough territory for him that he'd like to do research before getting too involved. Of course he's stuck in a galaxy without the internet or sex toy stores and while there is a fair amount of porn on the servers, there's no guarantee that any of it is going to be educational enough for Rodney to use it. He's going to have to play this by ear until he has time to get to Earth and do some real research.

His original plan of making John ask for what he wants couldn't be a worse tactic now that Rodney understands more about John's tendencies, but he can't help it – there are some things Rodney is not going to take on until John is truly ready, and he's just going to have to step up and find a way to ask for what he wants. It means Rodney's going to have to keep an iron grip on himself, which also means he should probably get himself off while John is sleeping to take the edge off for later.

He falls asleep afterward, still curled up next to John, but not touching him, and the next morning, when he's suddenly wide awake and knowing what he needs, he crawls out of the bed and leaves John to sleep while he finds Teyla.

+++++

Rodney leaves the coil of rope in the middle of the kitchen table, Ronon's wrist cuffs sitting innocuously in the center of it. He climbs over John with his laptop, settling in cross-legged and typing away while John sleeps. John never sleeps this much, or at least Rodney's gotten the impression that he doesn't, and while Rodney's happy John's catching up on years of his sleep debt, he's also impatient for John to wake up so they can experiment some more. Or possibly go get something to eat before they come back and play.

John sleeps for three more hours, though, and Rodney's on his second battery when John finally stretches his arms overhead, yawning with a disgustingly cute little noise and putting his arms behind his head. He glances down at Rodney's hand on his stomach. Rodney hadn't kept it there the whole time John'd been sleeping, but he'd stayed close enough to slide it back on whenever John moved enough that Rodney thought he might wake up.

He saves the file he's working on but waits to power down the tablet. He's not sure how John's going to wake up, what he's going to think of their first attempt at figuring out what he wants.

"Mmm," John says, looking up at Rodney and taking in the window. "How late did I sleep?"

"Late," Rodney says. "Long enough for me to get hungry for breakfast. Can you smell the Cabyssian curry?"

John takes a sniff, glancing down again at Rodney's hand resting on his belly. "Yeah," John says, but it sounds like a question.

"Are you hungry, John?" Rodney asks, and it's not even supposed to be an innuendo but apparently that's exactly where John's mind is.

"Yeah," John says, his voice soft and gravelly, lowering one of his arms and dropping his hand on top of Rodney's. "Starving."

Rodney's glad he jerked off last night, because he's already getting hard again, and he's going to need every neuron he can get to focus on giving John what he needs, letting him try to figure things out for himself.

"What do you want?" Rodney asks, half-hoping that John will want to get up and get some food. He's hungry and he wants to see John's reaction to the rope when he sees it. John's eyes go down to Rodney's crotch. He's only in his boxers, it's not like they're going to hide anything.

John's eyes dart up to Rodney's face. "I didn't… you didn't… I…" He frowns, looking unhappy. "I'm sorry."

Rodney shakes his head. "As much as I am inclined to be selfish about my own sexual needs," he says, grinning down at John, "I can take care of myself. If you want to do something to me, great. If not, I'll manage until you do." He doesn't even think about the possibility that John may never want to, much less say it out loud. No need to put ideas in John's head.

"So, food?" Rodney says, hoping to get some sustenance before round two. John gives him a slow half-smirk and nods. He rolls off the bed as Rodney powers down, and heads toward his clothing. He only gets two steps in before he stops in his tracks.

"Rodney?" he asks. Rodney comes up behind him, glancing down at the rope and up at John's face. It's not blank, but it's not entirely comfortable either.

"Yes?" Rodney asks, setting his jaw to keep himself from talking into the silence. John has to ask.

"What's that for?" John asks, more steadily than Rodney would have guessed.

"You tell me," Rodney says. "I can't use it without your permission."

"Do you like being tied up?" John asks, and that's the first indication Rodney might have gotten this one wrong. He doesn't think so, but it gives him another tick on his mental checklist.

He shrugs. "I don't know, I've never been tied up. You can do it, if you want." _Not sure what you'd do with me then,_ Rodney thinks, but John keeps staring at the rope.

"Are those Ronon's wrist cuffs?" he asks, staring at them. He hasn't put a hand out to touch anything; Rodney's not sure what that means, but he'll have to examine it later, on their way back in. His stomach is complaining loudly now that there's a curry smell permeating the house.

"Yeah. The rope is kind of rough."

John nods thoughtfully, still staring. "Listen," Rodney says, but before he can say anything, his stomach growls loud enough for John to hear and he raises an eyebrow. "Yes, I'm hungry," Rodney complains.

"Let's go get you some food then," John says, chuckling and going for the small stack of neatly folded clothes on the chair.

+++++

The curry isn't ready yet, not that they'd want it for breakfast. It has to simmer over the fire for another several hours, so they grab some meat and bread from the market stalls and head over to the playing field to see what games are going on this morning. There's an octagonal playing field with brightly colored mats at the joints of the octagon and a big white one at what Rodney's already thinking of as home plate. It appears that it's more like kickball than baseball, though, as a large leather ball is rolled from the center of the octagon and the young girl runs forward at speed to give it a kick. She runs to the orange mat and holds her ground, waiting for the next kicker on her team.

John's getting into it; there are some strange rules about pop flies that make him sit forward and try to figure out what's going on, but Rodney doesn't really care. He's too happy just to be sitting in the sun next to John, knocking their knees together and stealing John's bread.

Radek and Evan show up as the girl on first base runs straight across the octagon to fifth base. Apparently you don't have to run the bases in order. John's on his feet, yelling for her to go, cheering like a madman. She makes it to fifth base and stays put. John puts his fingers in his mouth and whistles, waving Radek and Evan over when he sees them.

Radek twines his fingers in Evan's and leads them up the low bleachers. Evan sits next to John and Radek on his other side, their clasped hands between them. John gets up to cheer for the young man that's next up to kick, and Rodney leans back to ask Evan about the changeover with Simpson and Teldy.

"No problem," Evan says, and then grins widely. "Except they didn't want to leave. Maybe we'll start doing this every other year instead. At least then we can stay for all the festivities."

"That sounds fair," Rodney says, not honestly caring. As long as he and John get the whole four days, the others can split it any way they like. "Any particular plans while you're here?"

"Curry," Radek says, licking his lips.

Evan knocks his shoulder into Radek's fondly and stands up to talk about the rules of the octagon game with John. Radek quirks an eyebrow at John's ass and gives Rodney a look that's clearly meant to ask how things are going. On Radek it looks more like "I'm going to eat your head" than "how's it going with your new boyfriend" but Rodney shrugs and smiles anyway.

+++++

After the game – and Rodney still doesn't know who won, even after it's over – the four of them wander the market while before second breakfast, or first lunch, or mid-day tea or whatever the heck meal is next on the roster, Evan and Radek holding hands like a couple of lovestruck teenagers. Rodney watches John watch them; he wonders if John even knows he's looking at them enviously.

He wonders what John would do if Rodney tried to hold his hand. Rodney doesn't; his hands are valuable and Sheppard's reflexes are quicker than his brain. Rodney would hate to be maimed because John couldn't contain his inner twelve-year-old.

Teyla finds them while they're wandering around, Evan sampling the offerings from every single stall. She asks Radek and Evan to be one of the lead couples for the next game. Rodney's always skipped the latjeniss game before, preferring to nap rather than get crammed into small spaces with lots of people when showers aren't widely available. John has always played, of course, and he's grinning like Evan's just gotten the best job ever.

"Where are you going to hide?" John asks, leaning into Evan.

"You'll have to try and find me," Evan says, and John's eyes go narrow.

"You're going to use a tactical hiding spot, right? That's the point of the game –"

"I know the rules," Evan huffs, and Radek puts a hand on his arm.

"We need to discuss our plan," Radek says, pulling Evan away from them. Evan goes, sticking his tongue out at John. Rodney never knew Evan was such a child.

"Okay, we have to scope out town," John says. "I need to figure out where Evan and Radek will hide."

Rodney goes along with John, basically treating it like a rescue mission where another team has been taken prisoner and they have to track them down. He points out good spots, places that are out of the way and defensible by a small number of people.

"You're thinking of this wrong," John says. "This game is about knowing where to hide if there's a culling."

Rodney blinks. He hadn't known that. He'd assumed it was like the game sardines, which he'd played at camp as a kid because it was supposed to foster a feeling of togetherness and inclusion. Rodney hated it. He's starting to like the idea of latjeniss, though, and he shifts his thought process and starts scoping out useful hiding spots from the Wraith. He thinks about all the stupid games he learned as a kid and wonders if they were originally used to teach kids something.

He thanks his lucky stars he's never been in a culling; he can only imagine the terror of trying to find all your loved ones and then trying to get them somewhere safe. "So that's why you have to play in couples," Rodney murmurs.

"What?" John asks, but he's not listening. He's found the small caves in the hills north of town; they widen to a low-ceilinged area big enough for plenty of people, if they're all sitting or crouching. It'd be perfect for sardines. It's probably perfect for this, too.

"That's where Lorne's going to hide," John says, his face a smug grin. "I guarantee it."

+++++

Latjeness starts with lunch. The three couples that are selected are given an early lunch and sent on their way. Then everyone else makes their way to the campfire to eat and get bound to their chosen partners. Mostly it's groups of two – Rodney's noticed several soon-to-be bonded couples tied together in this game – but sometimes in larger groups of friends or families. Or who knows, Rodney supposes, larger groups of bonded people.

Lunch is roast beast – something similar to lamb. It's served with a rich green sauce that Rodney sops up with the crusty bread. John's eating a healthy portion too; it's the first time Rodney's seen him get enthusiastic about meat. He's more of a vegetable guy, and he likes stews and casseroles to hide the meat in. Rodney takes a minute to wonder how he knows that, but he gives up. It's the same as knowing that Teyla doesn't like sweets, except fruity tartlet things that they serve twice a month or so, or Ronon has literally eaten the bark off trees when he was really hungry.

Teyla comes by to bind them together, brightly colored strips of cloth over her arm. John picks a blue one, and Rodney would tease him about that except there is a black one in the pile and John didn't pick it. Teyla ties John's left forearm to Rodney’s right – totally unfair, but Rodney was standing on the wrong side when Teyla came over and didn't realize in time. John's smirk tells him John had definitely thought about it. Rodney sighs.

After everyone is tied, the signal to go is given. Rodney knows John is going to take off running, but he isn't prepared for how fast. He stumbles but John grabs his hand and drags him along. Rodney will have to remember that. John Sheppard rule number two hundred thirty-seven: you can only hold hands if you're tied together and need to for balance.

He runs straight to the caves and peeks in. Rodney crouches next to him, unable to see around John, and getting knocked on his ass as John backs up. "They're not there," John says, and if Rodney didn't know better, he'd think John was _pouting_.

"Well," Rodney says as John picks him up, "there are several more caves along this ridge. Maybe they're in a different one."

John takes off running again, this time clasping Rodney's hand before he starts, so at least Rodney has some warning. They jog toward the next cave opening, a wider opening both of them can see into and see that no one is there.

They check the other three caves and they're all empty, too. John looks stumped. "I was sure they were going to be in there," John says. "It's the best spot, tactically speaking."

"Well, except for under the town hall," Rodney says. "It's low, you'd have to lie down even to get in there, but you could easily fit forty or fifty people, and it's not easy to find the way in."

"Rodney," John whines, threading their fingers together and yanking him around. "Why didn't you tell me before?" He doesn't wait for Rodney's answer, just starts running for town. Rodney grunts and follows him, wishing he'd eaten less of the roast beast.

+++++

They're not the first to find Evan and Radek. The low space is a third full already, so when John and Rodney wriggle in, they have to slide over on their stomachs to where Evan and Radek are stuffed in a corner.

"Nice one," John says, from where he's lying on his stomach next to Evan. "We thought you'd go for the caves."

"Speak for yourself, Colonel," Rodney says, and he can't see John's face, but he knows he's rolling his eyes.

"Fine, _I_ was sure you'd go for the caves."

"Oh, no," Evan says. "The couple Teyla picked from Drayl went to the caves. We didn't want two of us in the same place."

"Damn," John says. "We must have missed them. We checked all the caves."

"We didn't go in all the way," Rodney says. "They used those caves for cold storage before we got the electricity going. There are some hidey holes in the back, perfect little niches for this sort of game."

"Yeah," Evan says. "We were snug up under here at first," Evan says, patting one of the two by eights above their heads. "At least six or seven people couldn't see us and went on their way."

"Impressive," John says, and knocks his shoulder into Evan's.

+++++

It isn't until they've been lying on their stomachs for ten minutes that John tells him that latjeness is a timed game. Rodney'd thought that once everyone had found one of the three couples, the game would be over. Apparently that never happens, so the leader of the game calls time after a couple of hours. It took them roughly twenty minutes to find Evan and Radek, so that means there's at least ninety minutes of lying in dirt under the town hall before Rodney can shower and they can have curry. He might have tried a little harder to convince John to do something else if he had known. Then again, John was pretty determined to find Evan; it probably would've been a lost cause.

Rodney tries to sleep, but there's a rock poking him directly in his still too-full stomach. "Trade places with me," he tells John, and John sighs loudly. "I'm serious," Rodney says. "I want to lie on my back."

"Do you have any idea what kind of production this is going to be?" John asks. "Just think about how we'd have to –"

Rodney heaves up, getting onto his side, their tied arms now on his right hip. He's facing John, whose shoulder is half-wrenched out of its socket as his arm is forced up and back because of Rodney's position. "Come on, Sheppard, on your side. Then we'll roll together a half-turn, and we're good to go. It's not rocket science."

It's not, and John does exactly as he's told. What Rodney had not thought through is that John would be lying directly on top of him when they did their half-turn. For a moment, that would be fine, but John lingers, his legs outside Rodney's and his hips and chest pressing down. He leans in for a kiss, too, and Rodney's a little breathless when he comes up for air. John rolls off him and onto his back, bitching at Rodney for the rock that's probably right under one of his kidneys.

It gets crowded over the next twenty minutes; the space fills up, and as they shove over to fit the last few people in, Rodney ends up on his side, back to back with Evan, front to front with John. The space is full now and Rodney's sure it hasn't even been an hour. He's going to be stuck like this for another seventy-five minutes, and if that wasn't bad enough, he's almost positive that Radek is giving Evan a hand job.

He can't be completely certain, but he's at least eighty-five percent sure. Evan holds his breath when he gets hard; he sucks in breaths and holds them long enough that Rodney'd worried about him passing out. When he releases his breath, there's a small noise in the back of his throat, a click, like he's physically unsticking his throat to let the air out. Then he shudders a little. Evan's on his third click and shudder, and whatever Radek's doing, it's got Evan pretty worked up.

It's extremely distracting, which is probably why he hasn't noticed that John is stiff as a board in front of him. "John?" Rodney whispers.

John opens his eyes, and looks at Rodney quizzically, eyebrows raised.

Before Rodney can think about what to ask, he realizes that there's a lot of heavy breathing coming from the small space, and that is definitely something about latjeness he might have liked to have known going in. "Does this always happen?" he asks, thinking about the first year John played, when he'd been tied to Jinto and Wex.

John shakes his head. "At least one of the hideouts is specifically for kids, big and open and easy to find but still a good hiding place from the Wraith. If one of the other ones fills up early, this is… not unusual." He's not exactly whispering, but his voice is a low rumble and Rodney has to concentrate to understand.

"So the second year, when you were tied to Enia?" Rodney asks. She was young then, twenty or twenty-one.

"Painful and awkward, yeah," John says.

Evan's ready to come. Rodney knows from the frantic rhythm of his breathing, and the way he's rocking, his ass pushing back against Rodney's. Rodney's instantly hard, knowing if Evan comes, he'll be able to tell from the way he curls forward at the shoulders.

John must feel it, because his eyebrows go up again, and damn it, Rodney is not going to be stuck in a small space with a bunch of people getting off and not get his. Having Evan at his back is hot, and he's not moving an inch, so he wraps his arm around John and pulls him in closer.

John slides, bringing him tight against Rodney. He's hard too; Rodney doesn't know how anyone could not be, given the situation. He just wishes he had caught on a little earlier. Evan is still rocking against him, and Rodney's never wanted to be in this situation – exhibitionism isn't one of his kinks – but he's surprised to find he's a bit of a voyeur. Also, apparently he's competitive, because the sighs and groans and other noises coming from across the low space make him want to unravel John until he begs, regardless of who can hear him.

The position they're in is awkward, though, Rodney only has one hand free, and of course it's his left. He cups John, the heel of his hand putting pressure on his cock, and John's head falls to the side, resting in the dirt. His eyes close, and Rodney knows he's waiting for more. Rodney obliges, undoing the buttons of John's BDUs so he can get a hand inside. He dips his hand inside the waistband of John's boxers, wrapping his fingers around the tip of John's cock.

That gets a little exhalation of breath from John, stuttery and warm on Rodney's face. Rodney tries not to smirk for a half-second before he just gives in. John can't see it anyway, his eyes are closed tight.

The position is still uncomfortable and not the best angle for giving someone a hand job, but Rodney's a master of making things work. He does his best, straight-arming it and getting his whole hand around John's cock. Evan presses back against him, and Rodney suddenly realizes that if Evan came, he missed it; he doesn't think Evan did, because it's only been a minute or two. Another firm backward press from Evan, and Rodney realizes he must be taking care of Radek now. He's still wondering at Evan's lack of orgasm when it crystallizes: as soon as they orgasm, they're back to being stuck in a small, dirty place with lots of people getting off and nothing to do. That might be okay for John, who can fall asleep immediately after sex and can also sleep anywhere, but it will drive Rodney absolutely insane to be stuck with sticky, dirty clothing and nothing to do for an hour but be completely uncomfortable. What he wouldn't give to be twenty again and playing this game. Or maybe a woman.

Unfortunately he's still a forty-three year-old man and a second orgasm is next to impossible, especially since he's going to be doing it himself, if his track record with John so far is any indication. Plan B it is: drawing out John's orgasm until the last possible second.

He loosens his grip on John, letting his fingertips do some of the work. John exhales huffily, and opens his eyes to look at Rodney. Rodney smirks again, this time for John's benefit. John rolls his eyes and closes them again, tilting his hips forward to push his cock further into Rodney's hand. Rodney grins, trust John to go after what he wants the first time Rodney needs to take some time drawing it out. He wonders if it is logistically possible to shift downward enough to give John a blowjob. He can't see the other couples very clearly, but no one seems to have moved much, so maybe that's off limits.

Rodney decides to go for slow and steady, reaching in and grabbing John's cock firmly, pleased with the way it fits in the palm of his hand, even if the upstroke is still at a strange angle. John likes it too, his hips nudging forward into Rodney's downstroke and pushing Rodney back against Evan, who has gotten into the rhythm of the thing as well, pushing back just as Rodney goes forward for another stroke. He can hear Radek's harsh breathing now, too, and he's surprised that he recognizes that sound; it's similar to one of his 'aha!' moments in the lab, but with a coarse wetness to it.

Rodney's still going steady with John, a smooth, simple stroke that's almost meditative, when Radek and Evan switch off again. Suddenly the rhythm he and Evan set up is gone, and Evan is back to his shuddery breathing and hitching hips, and keeping up a solid stroke on John is nearly impossible. Rodney's almost painfully hard, too, his cock pushing against the buttons of his BDUs in uncomfortable places. He has no idea where John's hand is, but he wishes to hell it was on him. He debates grabbing for it, but it's hard enough to keep up a steady motion as it is, and that would just be one more distraction.

Rodney closes his eyes, his hand insistent on John's cock, the sounds of Evan holding his breath and releasing egging him on. Just when he thinks things can't get any hotter, Evan fumbles a hand backwards and squeezes Rodney's thigh. That does not help Rodney's hard-on, and Rodney's hips snap forward involuntarily. It smashes him into his hand and disrupts the flow he's got going; it startles an 'oof' out of John. Rodney opens his eyes to get things back on track. John's staring at him, his eyes traveling down Rodney's body and coming to rest on Evan's hand, still squeezing Rodney's thigh for all he's worth.

John narrows his eyes and punches Evan on the arm, hard enough that Rodney rocks away from John because of the sudden loss of Evan at his back. He hears a chuckle, and strangely, he can't tell if it's Evan or Radek.

It's the first time John's shown an interest, though, and Rodney's eyes roll back in his head as John cups him through his pants. "John," Rodney says, ready to come from nothing more than John's hand on him. John's got his right hand to work with, and he gets Rodney's buttons undone twice as fast as Rodney undid John's. Two seconds later his hand is on Rodney's cock and that's it, Rodney has gone past the point of endurance. He closes his eyes, lost in the feel of John's hand on his cock, and comes.

It takes him a second to come out of his stupor, and when he opens his eyes, he sees John looking at him with a cross between amusement and smugness. He decides it's time for revenge, and inches himself down John's body until his mouth is on a plane with John's cock. He doesn't care if it's not allowed, he's going to suck John until he begs for mercy.

John hitches in an anticipatory breath and Rodney licks the head of his cock encouragingly. He's not terribly comfortable, the arm that's tied to John above his head, the other trying to keep John's clothes out of the way. He dives in, using his chin to get John's boxers out of the way, and John trembles a little, a fine tremor that Rodney's starting to recognize. He can't tell if it's anticipation or dread, or maybe both.

The blowjob is even more awkward than the handjob, but Rodney rubs his thumb over John's hipbone, the sensitive spot, and hears John choke. He keeps at it, tightening his mouth and gentling his hand, skating his fingers over the skin on John's hip, as close to ticklish as he can get. John's free hand is in his hair, cupping his skull, and Rodney keeps going, keeps everything exactly in the space right before John comes. John doesn't seem to mind; he's breathing raggedly and clenching his fingers against Rodney's scalp from time to time, but Rodney can't feel anything building, no change in the rhythm of his breathing or the clutch of his fingers. Rodney's going to have to pull out all the stops to get to John. He takes his mouth off John's cock and bites right on John's hipbone, hanging on through John's shuddering breath, and going back to sucking his cock, his thumb circling the bite. John's trembling, now, and Rodney repeats the process, biting John through a shudder and going back to his cock, slow and steady. On the third one, John hisses in a breath, and Rodney's almost certain he hears _please_ , but he's long past that – he wants John to beg for him loud enough that everyone in this place will know it.

The fourth bite is the charm; after Rodney lets go, John whispers, "Rodney, fuck, _please_ ," and that is exactly what Rodney wanted to hear. He goes back, biting John's hipbone, little bites all along the ridge of his hip, sucking the skin after. He squeezes his hand in between them to grab John's cock and John comes, Rodney biting him through it, his teeth holding on to the skin and muscle that tastes just like John ought to, salty and musky.

Rodney listens to John's harsh breathing and waits for it to calm down enough for him to tuck John back in and button him up. He's moved up a little, just to get himself away from being eye level with John's cock, and Evan's ass is pressing against his shoulders. He suddenly realizes it is very quiet in the little space under the town hall, and he's kind of glad he can't see much of anything, because he thinks he might be embarrassed, if everyone was specifically listening to him and John.

He can feel Evan's hand on his shoulder, the briefest of squeezes, and Rodney finally puts John back together again, taking a moment to attempt his own BDUs left-handed and not having any great success. "Let me do that," John says, yanking on Rodney's shirt and pulling him up. He is going to be covered in dirt. "It's the least I can do."

Rodney huffs. "The very least," he says, and he can feel Evan laughing, shaking against his back. It takes a while – not even John is skilled at buttoning BDUs single-handed, but when Rodney's finally almost presentable, John leans in and kisses him.

"Thank you," he murmurs, and Rodney kisses him back, wishing he could say all the things he wants to say.

 _You're welcome,_ he thinks. _You're welcome to everything._

+++++

The game is called a few minutes later – Rodney has impeccable timing – with the sound of a horn blowing. It sounds vaguely like a french horn but not quite in tune, and Rodney's curious to see what instrument makes that kind of noise. As the entire group slithers out from under the town hall, filthy and mussed, more than a few of the people glance surreptitiously at John. Rodney's half proud to be the one that made him look so completely wrecked and half jealous that everyone is staring at a Sheppard that he completely wrecked.

Everyone except Evan, that is, and he's looking at Rodney with a raised eyebrow. Rodney doesn't even have time to ask him what for when Radek climbs to his feet, takes Evan's hand in his, and leads him off toward their cabin. Evan waves, grinning like a little kid, and Rodney smiles and raises a hand to shoo him off.

John's a bit dazed, not smoothly cool in the face of his plethora of admirers, so Rodney grabs his wrist, leading him to Rodney's cabin, where their shower awaits.

+++++

John lets Rodney shower first, and Rodney has never been happier to have helped the Athosians with their plumbing as he is this second. Rodney sits at the kitchen table and watches John shower; he earned a show, if nothing else.

By the time they're both fresh and clean, the curry smell permeating Athos has become too strong to stand. They wander toward the fire pit, both of them relaxed for a change. John grabs them a couple of bowls of the curry while Rodney fills his mug with water. He knows it's not going to help with the burn, but they don't drink milk, and wine doesn't help any more than water does.

The curry is amazing as it always is, and Chuck asks for the recipe while they're standing around with their bowls close to their mouths so they can shovel it in faster. That takes some quick thinking on Sheppard's part as apparently it's an insult to ask a cook how they make their food on Cabys. Sheppard explains it's a compliment, and it was just a misunderstanding, and they all get another big helping to show how much they liked it. The chef seems satisfied, and Chuck slinks off, clutching his bowl and muttering.

"I think I could use a little ruus wine after that," Sheppard says, grabbing Rodney's mug and chugging the half glass of water that's in there.

"Hey," Rodney says, elbowing Sheppard in the ribs. "I need some of that!"

Sheppard gives him the mug back and Rodney finishes the last to swallows of water. It's not enough to put out the fire in his mouth from the curry, but ruus wine always does a better job of that than water anyway. "Hurry up," Rodney says. "I'd like to have a few tastebuds left after this curry."

Sheppard makes it halfway to the barrels before he's set upon by three women from Ixilil. Rodney scowls; Sheppard's always unfailingly gracious to people, even when he's in the middle of something, and Rodney's mouth is on fire. The women don't stay, though. Whatever Sheppard says has them nodding and doing the curtsy-bow thing that the Ixilians do as a goodbye. Rodney's pretty pleased that Sheppard stays ahead of the four Hatesian teenagers trying to get his attention.

"You have a lot of practice at this, don't you?" Rodney asks, taking the mug gratefully and gulping down three long swallows. He rolls the wine around in his mouth, happy to cool the burn a little.

Sheppard shrugs. "I went to cotillions as a kid. They're ridiculous, but the girls always seemed to like them, so I tried not to ruin it for them. My brother liked them too; I think because he likes girls in frilly dresses."

Rodney tries not to smile, but he can't help it. "I don't think I can eat any more curry, or I'm going to explode."

Sheppard's half-full bowl is sitting on the bench next to him. "Yeah, me too," he says, taking their bowls over to the scraping area. The Athosians don't compost, but they do have pig-like animals that get the slops, so Rodney doesn't feel that bad about throwing away a couple of bowls full of curry. The Cabyssians are cleaning up their cooking station which means more dancing, soon. Rodney's not sure how he feels about that. Sheppard seems to enjoy the dancing, and Rodney has been enjoying it more this year too, he has to admit, but then there's the rope he's got coiled up on his kitchen table, and he's not sure he wants to waste his energy on dancing.

Halling comes over to them with a huge, bulky bag and says, "Will you join the drumming circle?" Rodney forgot about the drumming circle; he's always played, every year. Before he can decide what to do, Sheppard answers, "Of course, he always does." Sheppard never does. Rodney's never thought about it, but Sheppard has never stuck around for drum circle before. Halling opens the sack for Rodney to pick one of the smaller drums or gourds, but Rodney shakes his head.

"What about you?" Rodney asks, hoping Sheppard will stay this once. "People dance to the drumming, if you don't want to play."

Sheppard shakes his head. "I'm going to walk off the curry," he says, getting up and stretching. "You have fun. I'll see you later."

Rodney doesn't want to crowd John, but he'd rather go spend time with him than play in a drum circle, even one as good as this one. "I can come with you."

"Nah," John says. "It's fine, you have a good time. I'll be back in a couple of hours."

"John," Rodney says, but John gives him his "back off" glare. "Okay," Rodney says, looking at Halling, and then behind him, where Teyla and the teenagers are hauling in the big drums. "But I want one of the tenor drums this year. None of this tambourine stuff."

John claps Rodney on the shoulder and wanders off. Rodney takes one of the tenor drums off Jinto's hands and grabs a seat next to Halling in the circle.

+++++

Time flies in drum circle. Rodney takes John at his word when he says he'll come back; there is no way he's going to be able to tell how long he's been drumming. Still, after the group starts dwindling, Rodney checks his watch. He can't remember the last time he checked it, though, since it's so far off here. He still has no idea how long John's been gone. He stays a little longer because Wex starts with the syllable drumming, ti-ku-geyn-nu mit-su-theyn-nu, two sets of sixteenth notes that spawns a whole lot of chanting. Rodney loves this, the combination of syllables and drums, and the low hum of some of the men who sing pedal bass notes, making the whole thing sound eerily monastic.

When they finish the cycle, even more people have dropped off and they are down to their hard core group – Rodney, Jinto, Wex, the twins from Warageina, Tyril and Onny, and three or four other diehards that Rodney doesn't remember from the last festival, though it's been a couple years. He looks at his watch and sees that they spent over an hour doing the ti-ku chanting, and that means he's been here at least two hours, probably more like three and a half, and no Sheppard.

His stomach flips and he can feel panic settling in. If John hadn't said anything, Rodney wouldn't be worried; he'd just keep drumming, like he always does, and come home in the wee hours to fall into bed and be happy that the nights are long enough to stay dark for a good night's sleep. John had said he'd be back in a couple hours, though, and John isn't one to take that stuff lightly, even when it sounds like it's a casual thing.

Rodney excuses himself, much to the disappointment of Jinto and the delight of Wex, who trades his hand-held drum for Rodney's tenor. He smiles and waves to the group and heads out for his house, hoping John will be there.

He's not that far from the fire pit, three minutes at a brisk walk, but his mind is full of things that could have gone wrong. John went for a walk in the woods and got mauled by a wild animal; he got captured by people who need a bargaining chip with Atlantis; he decided to play with the cuffs and the rope and got himself into something he can't get out of. That makes Rodney break into a jog, and by the time he makes it to his house, he's huffing and puffing and sweating a little.

When he throws the door open, John's on his bed, naked and dozing. He must have fallen asleep a while ago because Rodney's entrance only makes him look up dazedly. Rodney rolls his eyes and shuts the door. There aren't any locks, but he doesn't expect anyone around here would enter without knocking, so he's not terribly worried about it. He's more worried about people peeping in windows, but John's closed the drapes on the front window and the house backs up onto the woods, so it's not likely anyone would be strolling by. Rodney closes the curtains anyway.

When he finally turns back to John, he's resting with his arms over the headboard, and his legs crossed at the ankle, Ronon's wrist cuffs on and the coil of rope at his side. Rodney's eyes flick to the place on John's chest where there's no chest hair. He doesn't have a feeding scar – Todd fixed that when he healed John – but the hair has never grown back. It would look funny if Rodney didn't know exactly what it meant.

"Yes," John says, and Rodney stares at him for a second, wondering if he can suddenly read Rodney's thoughts. It wouldn't be the weirdest thing that'd happened to them in this galaxy.

"Yes, what?" Rodney asks.

"Yes, you can tie me up," John says.

Rodney swallows. He purposely left the rope in a neutral place and not said anything about it; he doesn't mind being tied up and wouldn't have objected if that was the way John interpreted things. He can't say he's surprised that this is what John saw, though. He smirks. If John thinks he's going to be tied to the headboard like a bad porno, he's got another thing coming.

"Any way I want?"

John scrunches up his face at that. Rodney can't tell if it's because he thought there was only one way of tying someone up, or if he's not sure he can trust Rodney not to hogtie him. Rodney doesn't know how to hogtie, but it doesn't matter, because he's already made up his mind that he wants John on his knees. He knows he's got enough rope to do what he wants, and Athosian rope is extremely flexible.

John finally nods his assent and Rodney grins, not too evilly, he hopes, since he doesn't want to scare John off. "Arms in front, wrists together," Rodney says. John's eyes narrow, but he does as he's told. Rodney ties his wrists together, figure eights to make sure they're secure, and then winds the rope around the middle so he's got a solid handle on them. "Come on," Rodney says, yanking on John's arms a little. John's torso pulls forward and he has to scramble to keep from straining his hamstrings; he bends his knees and does a strangely graceful maneuver to get onto them, though the effect is marred when he falls forward into Rodney because he doesn't have his arms to balance. "Good," Rodney says. "Now turn around and face the headboard. I want you where I am now."

John's face is complicated; it's strange to see all the emotions cross over it, confusion, doubt, fear. He knows Rodney would never hurt him, at least, he _should_. If he doesn't, Rodney will have to kick his ass later, but this is all new enough that he could balk. "You can say no," Rodney says, looking John straight in the eye. "No, stop, wait. I've got you, John."

John takes a deep breath, apparently decided, and knee-walks in a circle, facing the headboard. Rodney grins again, and fusses over exactly how he wants John set up. He spreads John's knees as wide as he can without stretching John's groin muscles to discomfort, and he pulls John's calves out from his knees. His feet end up close enough to the bedposts to do what Rodney wants. Rodney stands on the bed, tipping John off balance and sending his face into Rodney's thigh. Rodney grabs his shoulders and sets him upright, holding on until John has his balance back. When he does, Rodney grabs the coil of rope and throws it over the ceiling beam.

John follows the rope with his eyes, looking dismayed. Rodney grabs the end of the rope and pulls it taut, tugging on John's wrists. He waits to see if John is going to call it off, the rope taking some of the weight of John's arms. John closes his eyes and takes two deep breaths. When he opens them, he looks calm, and maybe a little skeptical. Rodney smirks at him and pulls on the rope, bringing John's arms overhead and stretching his torso into a long, smooth line. John lets his head fall back.

When Rodney asks if he's comfortable for now, John huffs out a breath and brings his head back up, giving Rodney a quick, irritated nod. So far it's been all logistics; Rodney's concentration taken up entirely with how to get John into position without a single thought about what he's going to do once everything is set up. It's likely been the same for John; he was flaccid when Rodney first got back and he hadn't gotten hard at all until right now, when Rodney pulled his arms overhead, making him kneel up straight and stretching his shoulders at least a little. Rodney moves behind John, keeping his smirk to himself.

The coil of rope is a good seventy feet – enough to tie John to the bed twice if Rodney wants. He coils the rope around the bedpost, making sure that it's holding some of John's weight but not stretching his shoulders too much, and ties John's ankle with a loose knot, not wanting to chafe, since John hadn't kept socks on so there's nothing protecting his ankles the way the cuffs are protecting his wrists.

There's a length of rope to attach John's ankle to the bedpost – Rodney's bed is slightly bigger than a queen size and even with John's knees spread wide and his calves out to the side, there's no way he could get his feet next to the bedposts. Rodney's not worried about it; with John on his knees, there's not going to be a lot of trouble from his legs. He finishes up the other ankle, making sure it's secure but not cutting off circulation, and gets off the bed to survey his handiwork.

John almost looks like he's praying, desperately, and it makes Rodney grateful that he's here with John, now, and not some anthropologist who would've only been pretending. "Are you good?" Rodney asks.

"Good," John says on a breath, and he's entirely hard now, cock standing out from his body and starting to leak.

Rodney takes off his shoes, socks, and pants. He's not going to get completely naked until John asks him to, but he needs to be able to move freely, and pants are just too constricting to let him do what he wants. He sits at the head of the bed, briefly, to soak in John Sheppard on his knees, at his mercy, and immediately shuts down the thought. He's still asking John for permission for every little thing; not that he minds that, not when it's what John needs right now, but he can't wait until they're on more familiar ground, and Rodney can tie him up and do whatever he wants to John.

"How do you feel?" Rodney asks. When John gives him a pissy look, he says, "I meant your shoulders and ankles and..." He waves a hand up and down John's frame. "...whatever."

John tugs on the rope, but Rodney's tied it tight enough that there's not much give; then John tries to pull himself up by the rope; that works a little better by virtue of the looser way Rodney tied John's ankles, but he doesn't do that for long. "I can't move," John says, sounding more worried than Rodney had hoped for.

"That's the point," Rodney says. "Let the rope take your weight; let yourself be suspended."

Rodney can see the tension leave John's body, the way his head tips forward to his chest and he sags to the right. "So," Rodney says, shifting himself closer to John, "what should I do with you now?"

John hums out an indefinite answer to the question, and Rodney moves up the bed again, into touching distance. "I could play with your nipples again," Rodney says, waiting for John to look at him and nod before reaching out to pinch one. "Or give you another blowjob." John nods again. "Mmm, but what else?" Rodney asks, setting a hand on the outside of John's right thigh. "How do you feel about having your balls fondled?"

John's eyes open wide, and he tries to raise his shoulders – a shrug, Rodney thinks. "Okay," Rodney says, moving his hand to John's balls and giving a light squeeze.

"Hey!" John yelps, and Rodney immediately lets go. "Ow," John says quietly.

"Sorry," Rodney mumbles. "Need a gentler touch." He looks down at John's legs, spread wide. He's more flexible than Rodney would have guessed, and the triangle his thighs frame looks like it should be plenty big enough for Rodney to get in there. "How about sucking on your balls, John?" John tries to raise his shoulders again, and shakes his head and raises his eyebrows in a way that tells Rodney, "I have no idea."

"I meant," Rodney says patiently, "Do you mind if I give it a try?"

"Knock yourself out," John says, and while the drawl is familiar, it's a little strange coming out of a trussed up Sheppard.

Rodney lies down on his back and scoots himself in until his shoulders are snug against the front of John's thighs and his mouth is right under John's balls. It's a tighter squeeze than he'd guessed and they brushed over his nose as wriggled his way in. The bed has less give in it than Rodney thought, but it's all good, because John's balls are millimeters from his mouth, and his tongue grazes them when he licks his lips. John groans.

Rodney brings his arms up and braces them on the outside of John's thighs just as he opens his mouth and breathes on John's balls. Another groan, and Rodney's dick is starting to perk up too – his nose right behind John's sac and John smells fantastic. Rodney tilts his chin up and juts out his jaw, John's balls resting right in his mouth. He brings his tongue up to taste them, tracing the space between them and then moving to get one in his mouth, and then the other. John's noises are the good kind, but they're muffled.

John's inner thighs start to tremble, and Rodney suddenly realizes what an opportunity he's missing. He gives John's balls one last, loving caress with his tongue and turns his head to the side, biting the delicate skin on John's thigh, high up near where it meets his groin. John trembles more, and Rodney licks the bite and then bites again, a little higher. His nose is right in John's groin and he takes a deep breath; John's musk is intoxicating.

He turns his head to the other side and bites and licks John's other inner thigh, and it finally occurs to him to move his hands. He takes his right hand up John's thigh, gentle when he feels John's balls, and makes his way to John's cock, gripping it firmly and giving it one quick stroke. John's fully hard now, leaking pre-come enough that Rodney's palm is covered with a single swipe. He keeps his hand on the base of John's cock and turns his face back upwards, his mouth under John's balls again.

He thinks of something else, though, and pushes himself further down the bed. His mouth is under John's perineum, now, and Rodney presses the flat of his tongue against it, hard. John moans, and that goes straight to Rodney's cock – he's dying to get a hand on himself. He keeps up the pressure on John's perineum and strokes John's cock, awkwardly because of the angle, but he does it nice and slow, alternating pressure with his tongue on the half stroke.

John's making continuous sounds now and Rodney's cock is angrily hard, waiting for some attention of its own. It takes Rodney a second to realize that John's talking, speaking actual words and not just collections of sounds that make Rodney want to fuck him into next week.

"Please, Rodney," John says, in a low gravelly voice. Rodney has no idea where that voice came from, he's never heard it before, but it's need and ache and that John Sheppard drawl all mixed together and it's the sexiest thing he's ever heard come out of John's mouth. "Rodney," he says again, but it sounds like a question.

Rodney turns his head so he's got one ear sort of free and listens. "Please, Rodney, _please_ ," John says. Rodney debates with himself; he's pretty sure John goes incoherent when he gets past a certain point, but if he's begging, he needs something before he can come, and as much fun as Rodney is having down here, surrounded on all sides by the devastating hotness of John, he needs to take care of John first.

He sighs and wriggles out from under John, mouthing John's balls one last time on the way out. He sits up and turns around to look at John, and when he finally rakes his eyes up and down John, he looks shattered. His head is tipped back and slightly to the side, leaning against his right arm, and his mouth is open just a little. His center of balance must be off because he's leaning backward from his knees, letting the rope take his weight to compensate. His cock is red and slick, Rodney's handiwork readily apparent in the stripes of pre-come up and down the shaft.

John's eyes are open and he's staring at Rodney, looking… looking down at Rodney's boxers. Rodney looks down and he can see them tented with his own hard-on. His cock is probably visible through the slit from John's viewpoint. "Please," John says, and Rodney's stomach flips because damn, if he's looking at Rodney's cock, then –

"Please, fuck, Rodney, please," John says, "I want to see."

Rodney can feel his eyebrows rising so fast they're going to skyrocket off his face. "See what?" Rodney asks, because apparently even when he's about to get exactly what he wants, he's an asshole.

"I want to watch you jack off," John says, his voice less plaintive than it was a minute ago, his eyes still focused on the peephole in Rodney's boxers.

Rodney puts his hand in his boxers and strokes himself once, letting his eyes fall closed with how much he wants this, and how much he wants to fuck John, and how long it'll be until that happens, if it ever does. He thinks about how John's tied up, the way his knees are wide and he thinks about how easy it would be to fuck him like this.

"Rodney," John whispers. When Rodney opens his eyes, John's looking at his hand in his boxers. "I want to _see_ ," John says, intent, more certain sounding than Rodney's heard so far. Rodney stands up and takes his boxers off, and then when he looks down and sees how ridiculous it looks to be wearing only a t-shirt, he takes that off too. John looks him up and down, and for a second, Rodney can actually _see_ him calculating in his head. Rodney gets onto the bed, crawling over to John and getting on his knees in front of him. "Like this?" Rodney asks, putting his right hand on his cock, just circling the base, nothing else yet. John looks down, and Rodney knees in a little closer, so there's only a couple of inches between them. He reaches out for John's balls with his free hand, and John lets his head fall back and sighs breathily.

Rodney presses in closer, and the knuckles of the hand holding himself brush against John's cock. "This what you want, John?" he asks, stroking himself, the backs of his fingers brushing John's cock as he does it. He gets his other hand a little further under John's balls, so they're resting on his wrist, and presses three fingers against John's perineum. John shudders, and Rodney strokes himself a couple of times, rubbing against John's cock as he does it.

"John," Rodney says, and John pulls his head up again to look at him, "is this what you want?" Rodney looks down at his hand, his fingers caught between his cock and John's, and he strokes again, feeling John shiver as Rodney's knuckles catch under the head of his cock on their way up. He looks back up, not at all surprised to see John looking down at his hand now.

John lifts his head and stares at Rodney, his mouth open like he wants to say something but can't find the words. Rodney strokes himself again, pulling his cock out a little to add more pressure against John's, and John's eyes flutter closed. "More," he says, opening his eyes and looking down again.

Rodney's about ready to come from the sound of John's voice, so he gives up the teasing and takes both their cocks in his right hand and sets up a brutal rhythm, his left hand keeping a constant pressure on John's perineum. John makes a choked off sound after a few strokes, coming in Rodney's hand, and the pulsing of John's cock next to his own and the come dripping off both of them sends Rodney over the edge two seconds later.

Rodney leans forward, letting his head fall onto John's chest. "Fuck," he says, half wishing he had kept his t-shirt on because then he would have had something to wipe is come-covered hand on. "Are you okay?"

He pulls back, planning on getting off the bed to grab his clothes if things get weird or to clean up, but John is silent, eyes closed, letting the rope take his weight, his body contorting now that he's not trying to stay upright.

"I know you're a sleeper, but don't fall asleep until I've untied you," Rodney says, jumping off the bed and wiping his hand on his t-shirt. He throws on his boxers and starts working the knots out of the rope at John's right ankle. That doesn't take long, but John's weight pulled the rope taut on the other bedpost and it takes Rodney a minute to work the knots out. When he finally gets that undone, he grabs the rope and levers John's arms down little by little, and when the rope isn't taking any of his weight anymore, John faceplants on the bed.

"Come on," Rodney chides, rolling him over and setting a hand on John's stomach for a moment while he untwists the rope one-handed. He throws the whole thing off the end of the bed and unbuckles Ronon's cuffs to take a look at John's wrists. They're smooth, no bruising so far, though they might take a while to show up. "Does this hurt?" he asks, squeezing John's wrist with two fingers.

John doesn't answer, and when Rodney looks up at his face, he's fast asleep.

+++++

Rodney sleeps late the next day. It's dawn when he wakes up and John is gone, probably out running somewhere. Rodney has to get moving since he's supposed to meet Enia at the gate to go to M33-C98 just after dawn. He gives himself a sponge bath and gets dressed quickly, trying to tame his hair and then giving it up as a lost cause and dumping water over it with the hope that it will dry in a charmingly Sheppardian pattern of bedhead. He was able to make it do that on purpose for a while, but then his hair got a little longer and now it mostly settles in swirly cowlicks that are nowhere near as handsome as Sheppard's crop of ridiculous spiky hair.

John's still not back when he's ready to go, so he grabs a pen out of his jacket and when he can't find a scrap of paper anywhere, takes one of his white t-shirts and scrawls on it, _Went to M33-C98 with Enia at dawn, if not back in a couple of hours come drag us out of there – don't want to miss the rope-braiding contests_.

He enjoys the rope braiding contests. He used to have to braid Jeannie's hair back when he was responsible for getting her to school on time, and he was pretty good at it. He'll never have a chance at the speed contest because the people who've been braiding rope have been doing it their whole lives. He would enter the contest with creative knotting too, but it's unofficially for kids, and he was sad to see none of the adults joined in. There were some impressive patterns; most of the younger kids split the rope into more sections and braided more intricately; the older kids created pictures with their bits of grass. Jinto had done a butterfly the first year that they'd come to the festival and given it to Teyla. She still has it in her quarters.

Rodney's distracted by thoughts of braiding as he comes up on the gate, where Enia is waiting for him. Rodney's geared up like he would be for any off-world mission; earpiece, IDC, tac vest, M9 in his thigh holster, life signs detector, and tablet on his back. He doesn't plan on being there long enough to need food, and he isn't anticipating any trouble from an empty city, so no P90, not that they brought one of those to Athos anyway. That's probably a mistake, but they're not going to go inside any deserted buildings; he's just going to note the relative size of the street next to the size of the buildings and how they needed more room than they had so they had to change the traffic rules to accommodate things.

"Morning," Rodney says, and Enia smiles.

"Sleep in?" Enia asks.

"I'm not that late," Rodney says, dialing the DHD. "And I had a tiring night last night."

"But you left drum circle early," Enia says with a wide-eyed, innocent look.

"Oh, ha, ha," Rodney says as the wormhole whooshes into life.

Enia snakes her arm around his and squeezes. "I am happy for you and Colonel Sheppard," she says. "You have bizarre and lengthy mating rituals, but it is good to see you are happy."

Rodney gives her a half-hearted smile and pats her arm. They step through the wormhole and into the late afternoon on M33-C98.

"Oh, it's late," Rodney says, looking at the copperish light of the sun. It looks like it's going to set soon, and he has no plans to be on this planet after that happens – it's creepy enough in the daylight, he's not planning on being on rapture-world in the dark. "Come on, let's hurry. I don't want to stick around past sunset."

He and Enia walk through the deserted streets, looking at the empty carriages, some made to be tied to a horse-sized animal and others with large engines with clockwork parts. The road is a basic two way street, it's easy to see there's enough room for the two stranded vehicles to pass on the roadway.

"That seems wide enough to me," she says. "Half for this direction, the other half for that direction."

"Yes, but what if people are going into these buildings? Where do they park?" Rodney asks. "What if they are delivering something? That would block one lane of traffic completely until they were finished." He's fond of downtowns with all one way streets; it appeals to his sense of order and it feels safer, somehow, but he doesn't think he can explain the concept to Enia effectively since there's no way traffic of that magnitude would even be comprehensible to her.

"If you box yourself into roads this small when you start, you make traffic extremely difficult when you get to this point of development. He looks up at the eight story building next to them, the one casting a long shadow over them and the low building across the street. "A building like that might have two hundred people working in it. If even a quarter of them have vehicles, that's fifty parking spaces you'll need, just for this one building."

"Why can't they take their transports in the building?" Enia asks. "Why must they leave their carts on the street?"

Rodney grins. Enia has a delightfully creative mind. "Yes, you can do that, and I suggest, when you start making buildings this size, you –"

The life signs detector beeps. Enia glances at him, uncertain. "What does that mean?"

Rodney picks it up and looks at the screen. Their two amber dots are in the center of the screen, but there are half a dozen red dots on the north end of town. Rodney clicks his radio on. "Sheppard?"

There's nothing but static. He looks around again, and realizes the sun is very close to setting; it's the gunmetal grey of dusk in the shadow of this building, and when they step into the last rays of sunlight, the light is thin and fading. He looks at his watch. They've been here an hour and a half – he should have been watching the time more closely.

"Let's head back to the gate," Rodney says, and Enia nods curtly. He keeps his eyes on the life signs detector, and the red dots shift direction as Rodney and Enia move toward the gate. If they don't hurry up, they'll run into the dots before they get there, and that is not something Rodney wants to deal with today, even if they're friendly locals. Something tells him they're not.

Rodney picks up the pace, jogging toward the gate a little quicker now. The life signs detector beeps again and Rodney extends the range to see another dozen dots coming up from the southwest. They'll get to the gate well before Rodney and Enia. "Shit," Rodney says, and stops moving.

The red dots stop moving too, blinking maliciously on the screen. "We have to hole up in town," Rodney says, a shiver going down his spine as he says it. Why does he have to run into a zombie apocalypse on a planet where he can't read the language? He has no idea how to find a gun store. "Come on," he says, running back the way they came. By turning around they've gained some distance on the dots coming in from the north, but not much. Rodney tries to think about the layout of the town, the best place to hole up until sunrise, or until the cavalry comes, whichever comes first.

If they're zombies, the tallest buildings are their best bet. He takes them back to the eight story building they were standing up against and tries the first door they come to. It's a metal door, next to a garage door that looks just big enough for one of the horse-drawn carts. Both doors are locked, but they don't have time to mess around with them, so Rodney leads them around the front of the building, where the doors and entire front half of the first floor are made of glass. Rodney grabs at the door, praying they won't have to shoot the glass to get in, and it opens with a tug. It doesn't move particularly smoothly, but Enia can slip in easily, and Rodney shoves it open a little more to squeeze in himself. He pulls it shut and turns the mechanism above the handle that looks like a lock.

There is a large desk in the middle of the open room, and Enia walks over to it while Rodney looks out the door, trying to see if he can get a glimpse of whatever these red dots are. "Can you read the language?" Rodney asks, not really hoping for anything.

"No," Enia says, "but there are a lot of switches here."

The six red dots are at the back of their building; Rodney hopes they're too stupid to be able to break glass. He also checks out the lobby and finds what seems to be the universal sign for stairs. He checks the door and it's open, so he heads over to the desk to see what Enia's looking at.

It looks like a set of circuit breakers. There's one that's flipped backwards from all the rest; Rodney would bet that it blew out when the power plant gave up the ghost.

There's a loud clang as something throws itself at the glass. Enia screams, but covers her mouth almost immediately. The hair on Rodney's neck stands on end. The creature that is plastered onto the glass, surrounded by five more of its kind, is a huge humanoid bat-thing. It has webbed wings extending from almost-human arms, its skin dull beige and translucent. Its eyes are tiny, but human shaped as well. It hisses at them, and shows a mouthful of jagged teeth. Rodney shudders.

Enia starts flipping the handles of the switches on the circuit breaker panel, and for a brief second, the entire place lights up. The bat things screech and back off, only to come back with a vengeance when the lights dim a moment later.

They had electric power. Rodney's brain starts planning, trying to figure out how they can find the nearest power plant, and see if there's any way he can get it working.

"Here, watch this," he says, handing the detector to Enia and pulling out his tablet. He's calibrated his tablet to work as a life signs detector, but with more sensitivity. He can tune it in to power sources too, and if he fine tunes it enough, maybe even possible power sources. A city this large has to have a couple of power plants; maybe there's one close.

"Rodney," Enia says, worry in her voice. He looks up at her, and then over at the bat things. There are only three of them beating on the glass now.

"Shit," Rodney says, grabbing Enia's hand and hauling her toward the stairs. "Time to get out of this fishbowl."

They climb three flights and throw themselves into the room. It looks like office space, several flat surfaced areas and things that could be chairs surrounding them. "Go find things to block all the entrances," he tells Enia.

He's still working on finding something resembling a power plant when a familiar energy signature flares bright on the screen. The gate. He clicks his radio on. Please let Sheppard have thought to bring his radio.

"Sheppard?"

"McKay?" Sheppard's voice is wary, that's good.

"Yes, are you alone?"

"Lorne's with me," Sheppard says. "What's going on?"

Enia runs back into the room waving the life signs detector. "They're going away!" she shouts, sounding delighted. Rodney grabs it from her and confirms his suspicion – they're headed toward Sheppard. They've more than doubled their numbers, there's got to be at least sixty of them now.

"Get out of here, _right now_. Come back with at least two jumpers of fully armed marines and anything that can create a whole lot of light."

"Roger," Sheppard says, his voice all business, and before he's even done talking the gate's energy signal crosses Rodney's screen again. "We'll be back for you."

"Hurry," Rodney says.

+++++

Rodney isn't one to sit around. Once he sends Sheppard back to bring the cavalry, he's determined to do something in the meantime. The life signs detector is crap with multilevel buildings unless you can talk to it nice the way Sheppard does, and Rodney's never been quite that skilled. He can make his tablet do what he wants, though, and it breaks the situation down by level of the building. The bat-things swarmed the front door not too long after he and Enia made their break for the stairs; they're up to level two now, and Rodney knows he should probably sit tight and wait for Atlantis to come and save them, but he's never been good at waiting.

He tries to find the power sources again, knowing it's really no use. At least it keeps his mind occupied. Enia is staring at the life signs detector, watching the red dots cluster around where they're hiding. "It looks like they should be right here," she says, mesmerized.

"I know," Rodney says. He brings up the multi-level life signs picture and squawks when he realizes one of them _is_ here, on this level, heading straight for them. He stands, moving in front of Enia and drawing his gun at the same time. He steadies his right hand with his left, trying to see the creature in the gloom. He realizes the tablet is giving off enough light to make him visible. He knows these things must be afraid of it, though, so letting it go out would be worse. Visible is okay if it means protected.

"Rodney," Enia says, a warning in her voice. "There's two more of them."

"Where?" Rodney asks, swiveling his gun around and looking for movement, a glimmer of translucent flesh.

"One is straight ahead, one is at a sixty degree angle off to the left, and one is ninety degrees on your right," Enia says, and bless her for having enough brains to communicate that to him in terms he can understand.

There's movement straight ahead, and Rodney doesn't think, he just shoots. There's a loud screech and then a whining sort of yowl, and Rodney sees the bat-thing on his right out of the corner of his eye, so he turns to it and fires. This one doesn't make any noise, but he hears it go down with a thump.

"Rodney!" Enia shouts, but it's too late – the last one is moving toward him too fast, half-gliding. He knocks Rodney down, and the overwhelming panic that comes over Rodney makes him buck and flail wildly, throwing off the monster's grip by pure luck. He can feel the adrenaline kick-start everything, pins and needles in his thighs and biceps and hands. He gets a knee up enough to wedge it between them, keeping the thing from taking a chunk out of his neck. They're at a standstill, Rodney somehow holding off the creature by sheer force of will.

A blinding light comes through the window, white and bright and hot enough that Rodney can feel it on the side of his face. The bat-thing screams and run-glides off to the back of the room, leaving Rodney shaking on the floor. "Sheppard?" he asks, but when he reaches for his earpiece, he realizes it's not in his ear. It must have gotten knocked out during the fighting.

"You okay?" he asks Enia, and her eyes are wide and round, but she nods. "Do you see my earpiece?"

She points at something on the floor – sharp eyes – and he picks it up and stuffs it in his ear. "Sheppard?"

"Christ, McKay, where have you been? You've been radio silent since we got here."

Rodney huffs. "Excuse me, Colonel," he says, as snide as he can make it when his whole body is shaking in the aftermath of the adrenaline, "some of us were wrestling bat-creatures and trying not to get scraped or bitten."

There's a second of silence, and then Sheppard's voice, low. "Are you okay?"

"Fine, Colonel. Just get us the hell out of here."

The spotlight sweeps the floor and Rodney can see the shape of the puddlejumper as the light shifts off him and Enia. He shoots the corner of one of the windows, kicking it out and hoping the shards do some damage as they fall to the ground. Sheppard backs the jumper up and lowers the hatch; Rodney helps Enia up and then climbs in, squeezing through to the cockpit and kicking one of the marines out of the co-pilot's seat.

"We have our cargo," Sheppard says into his radio, "back to Atlantis."

+++++

The ride back to the gate is tense and quiet. Rodney calls for Enia and she makes her way out of the back and into the cockpit, where the marine sitting behind Sheppard offers his seat. Lieutenant Cooper, Rodney thinks, but he can't be entirely sure. "Thank you," she says, and takes the seat.

"I'm sorry," Rodney says, and Enia shrugs.

"It's not your fault," Enia says mildly. "I'm just glad we're okay."

Sheppard dials in to Atlantis, and while Rodney knows it's procedure, he isn't looking forward to the infirmary visit that's probably going to make him miss the rope braiding contest. As soon as they're in the gateroom, the auto-program takes over and the jumper is pulled up to the bay automatically. Sheppard stops to let the marines and Enia disembark – "Escort her to the infirmary, Lt. Cooper" – and slams the doors to the cockpit closed. The windshield cover follows suit.

Rodney stares at him in surprise; they should be following the marines – Rodney got a lot closer to those monsters than Enia did. Suddenly Sheppard grabs him by the tac vest and hauls him out of his seat, backing him up and pressing him against the bulkhead. Sheppard starts yanking open the velcro on Rodney's vest, sliding it roughly off Rodney's shoulders and throwing it on the floor. He takes the hem of Rodney's t-shirt next.

"Colonel!" Rodney cries, slapping at Sheppard's hands. Sheppard is determined though, and he keeps trying to pull Rodney's shirt up. Rodney gets his arm in the way and it gets caught on his elbow. Sheppard's eyes are wild and they're darting all over Rodney's body, to any patch of bare skin that he can see.

"John," Rodney says, gripping John's forearms. "Hey, I'm _fine_."

John stops yanking on Rodney's t-shirt but he doesn't let go. "I want to see for myself," he says, pulling on the hem of the t-shirt again.

"John," Rodney says, and John's head snaps up to look Rodney in the eye. "Infirmary first. You can have your own inspection later."

John takes a deep breath and then a step backward. "Okay," he says.

Rodney smirks at him. "If I'd known this is what it takes to get you to tear my clothes off…" Rodney says, but he can't finish the joke because he _has_ done it earlier. He's been in scrapes like that dozens of times and John's never reacted this way.

John rolls his eyes and picks up the tac vest. "Come on, damsel in distress. Let's see if you're a vampire now."

+++++

Dr. Schulze is extraordinarily efficient. By the time John and Rodney get to the infirmary, she's already cleared Enia and is waiting for them. Rodney almost expects her to be tapping her foot, but she simply guides him over to a gurney and makes him lie under a scanner. Two scans later she says, "And now I need to inspect your skin, Dr. McKay."

John takes a seat on the uncomfortable bendy plastic chair next to the gurney when Dr. Schulze draws the privacy curtain. Dr. Schulze raises her eyebrows at Rodney in a silent question and Rodney nods his assent.

She's no-nonsense about it, starting with his face. It's disconcerting to have her so close and looking so intently, but she moves his skin around, glancing in his ears and checking his hairline, so it becomes less uncomfortable pretty quickly. She goes right into checking his scalp, then his neck, shoulders, and back. She comes around the front of him again and inspects his chest and stomach, all no nonsense and brusque. She stops moving south, giving him a reprieve from removing his pants, and checks his arms. She starts at his right hand, checking between his fingers and under the nails and moving up his arm to his armpit – and her thorough check of that nearly makes him giggle.

She finishes his other arm and then smiles at him, a kindly smile that says she's seen it all before. She may have, but John's never seen him exposed quite like this, and while he's not terribly self-conscious, having John sitting on the chair and glowering like a thundercloud is nerve-wracking. There's nothing to do about it, though, so he toes off his shoes and takes off the rest of his clothes.

Dr. Schulze makes him stand so she can check his abdomen, and she briskly checks his penis and balls while she's there. She turns him around to check his ass, and Rodney lets out a deep breath, just happy he didn't get hard while she was squatting in front of him, inspecting his genitalia. Then she pries his ass cheeks apart and he can feel himself flush. "Is this really necessary?" he barks, almost thankful John hasn't wanted to fuck him yet.

Dr. Schulze doesn't answer, just shifts to inspecting his outer upper thighs. "When I was doing my emergency rotation," she says, running her hand over his skin in a way that's remarkably soothing, "we had a girl come in who'd been sledding. She'd hit a bump and her glutes hurt. She thought she might have broken her tailbone."

"Please sit," Dr. Schulze says, indicating the end of the gurney. She pulls up her low stool and sets to inspecting his calves and feet. "We did a visual inspection and didn't notice any bruising, but she started to get stomach cramps while we were waiting for the x-ray to get back." She pulls each of his toes apart, and Rodney couldn't be more embarrassed until she pulls the stirrups out of the gurney. "One last place to check," she says, putting a gentle hand on his chest to move him back on the gurney.

"There was nothing on her x-rays – no broken bones." Rodney takes a deep breath as he puts his heels in the stirrups, a bizarre and vulnerable-feeling position. "Then we looked again," Dr. Schulze said, lifting Rodney's balls to inspect his perineum. "It turned out she had gotten a tree branch stuck inside her. She'd ridden over it and it went right up into her abdominal cavity through her buttock and she hadn't even noticed. It was a foot long and an inch thick at the base."

She slaps Rodney's calf and wheels back out of the way. Rodney stands and starts to get dressed again, enthralled. "The skin had sealed up right behind it - there was the barest scratch where it had entered her." Dr. Schulze smiles at him, and he has to admit, the story's certainly alleviated the sense of shame he thought he'd be feeling. "Luckily, one of the interns remarked on the x-ray – we were so busy looking at the coccyx, we'd missed it in the soft tissue – it was barely a shadow on the film. If we'd sent her home, she would have ripped up her intestines and probably died of internal bleeding in the night."

Rodney turns around to look at John at this, and he looks aghast, like he can't even believe that is possible. Rodney feels the same.

"I inspect people more closely these days," Dr. Schulze says, smiling. "You're clean. And now that I've seen everything you have to show me, you won't be so avoidant of the clinic in the future," she says. Before Rodney can even form a sarcastic response, she turns to John. "And you too, Colonel Sheppard. I expect you to stop by for your physical when you get back from Athos."

"Yes ma'am," John drawls, but Rodney can hear the relief in his voice. "Be here with bells on."

John picks up Rodney's tac vest and they head out from behind the privacy curtain, where Teldy and Enia are sitting on some of the more comfortable chairs along the wall and Lorne is pacing. "Rodney," Enia says, jumping to her feet. "Your inspection has gone well?"

Rodney flushes again. If Dr. Schulze had done that to Enia... he didn't even want to know. "I'm one hundred percent," he says, offering his arm. "And ready to get back to Athos – how about you?"

She smiles demurely as she takes his arm, and Rodney leads them out of the infirmary and toward the gateroom, Lorne, Teldy and Sheppard behind. "I shot two of those things," he tells Teldy over his shoulder. "I think one was only wounded, but I'm pretty sure I killed the other. It might be worth bringing it back for Dr. Schulze to inspect."

"We'll take care of it," Teldy says, and goes back to talking in low tones with Sheppard.

"I suppose we've missed the braiding contests," Rodney says remorsefully as they get to the gateroom steps, and Enia pats his arm.

"Maybe they waited for you," she says. "Teyla knows they're your favorite."

"Maybe," Rodney says, but he doesn't believe it.

Enia releases his arm as John comes up on his other side. "I told her not to start without you."

Rodney glances up, and the smirk John's trying to form is not really working for him. There's nowhere near enough sarcasm.

"Wouldn't want you to lose all your rope-braiding cred."

"Oh, we haven't missed the rope-braiding," Evan says without a touch of self-consciousness. "That's great, I love rope-braiding."

The gate whooshes open and John shakes his head. Rodney grins at Evan, who winks at him. John slings an arm over Rodney's shoulders and walks them through it.

+++++

The rope-braiding isn't as much fun as he hoped. He's shaky and slow from the adrenaline wearing off, and he's tired, too. Eventually he gives up, so far behind the rest of the competition he'll never catch up. He and John stay for a while after, congratulating one of the elders on winning the speed contest. Rodney tries to get into watching the creative rope-braiding, but his eyes start to droop and John takes him by the hand and pulls him out of the crowd.

"You need a nap," John says, hauling him toward the house.

"Hungry," Rodney says, though he's not sure he could stay awake long enough to eat.

"After," John says, and pushes him in the door. Rodney stumbles over the threshhold, something tripping him as he tries to take a step up. Probably his own feet, which feel strangely heavy now. "Come on," John cajoles, leading Rodney toward the bed and speaking in a soft, lilting voice. "That's good." He undresses Rodney down to his boxers with swift efficiency, and before Rodney even has time to wonder about it, John gives him a shove and makes him fall onto the bed gracelessly.

"Hey," Rodney says, feeling a protest is in order but not quite up to giving any more than that.

"Go to sleep," John says. "We can eat when you wake up."

"Mmm," Rodney says, his eyelids drooping closed without his permission.

+++++

When Rodney wakes up, it's coming up on midday. The light is clear and bright and the heat is just above what he's comfortable with. He rolls over, glancing around the room for John. He's not there, but there's a plate on the table, under a hand towel. When Rodney climbs out of bed, heading for the food like a zombie looking for brains, he finds out it's bread and cheese, which are his two favorite things in the world at that moment.

Rodney's wolfed down nearly the entire plate when John shows up, looking surprised at the mess on the table. "Hungry?"

Rodney glares. "I was hungry when I went to sleep. How long have I been out?" It was early afternoon-ish light out when he went to sleep. It's starting to get the glow of late afternoon sun.

"Few hours," John says, but Rodney has a feeling that's a lie. If it's nearly sundown, and he thinks it probably is, he's been sleeping for six hours. "There's a pig-thing on the spit," John says. "Smells like ham."

"Oooh," Rodney says, standing up. Crumbs and bits of cheese roll down his shirt and he takes a swipe at it and straightens it out. "Let's go."

"Sure you don't want to shower first?" John asks.

Rodney looks down at himself and takes a good whiff. It's probably a good idea. He sighs. The cheese and bread will have to hold him over. "Fine," he says, and even though he feels particularly cranky, John's smiling at him fondly. It's disconcerting.

"Climb in," John says. "I'll bring you fresh clothes."

Rodney grumbles all the way to the shower and starts the water running. He climbs in immediately; the hot water system is not what it should be yet. He's going to have to work out a way to get industrial-sized water heaters out here, especially if he intends to stay a while, and something tells him he's going to want to.

He's just stepped in and put his head under the spray when the curtain is drawn back. Rodney turns in surprise, but of course it's only John. For a second he thinks John might join him, but he's still clothed, and he's methodically looking over Rodney's skin, his eyes darting from Rodney's neck to his shoulders and across his chest. John puts a hand on Rodney's shoulder, rubbing a thumb up Rodney's neck. "Okay?" he asks, and Rodney can't force even a single word out of his mouth. He nods and reaches down to turn the water off.

John turns him around, starting at the back of Rodney's head, his fingers rubbing over his scalp. Rodney closes his eyes, reveling on John's hands on him. John smoothes his hands down Rodney's nape and shoulders and back, turning Rodney around to do the same to his chest and belly. He takes each arm and inspects it from shoulder to fingertips, and then Rodney's legs from thighs to toes. Rodney tries not to be disappointed that John skipped all the interesting parts, but he's been hard since John put his hands in his hair, so he can understand the hesitation.

John turns him around again, running his hands up the backs of Rodney's calves, his thighs, and over his ass, and Rodney can't help letting out groan. He stands stock still, not even daring to hope. John turns him around again, visually inspecting his very hard cock and very sensitive balls, and pressing two fingers in behind to check his perineum. Rodney bites back a second groan, praying John will do something, anything, and then John stands and starts to look over Rodney's face. He turns Rodney's head this way and that, looking into his ears and along his hairline, checking the creases on his forehead and running gentle fingers over his cheeks and nose and Rodney eyes, after he closes them.

Rodney can feel John's breath on his face, calm and warm, but close, and he keeps his eyes shut. He doesn't know how to encourage John any more, but he wants to give him every opportunity he can. John kisses him, slow and sweet, his hands on Rodney's face like he's a startled deer that might run away. "Don't scare me like that," John says.

"Okay," Rodney whispers on a breath. John kisses him again, still sweet but more deeply; hungry. Then he's gone, and before Rodney can open his eyes and protest, he's returned at Rodney's neck, licking a long stripe up it, right to his ear. Then his shoulder, his breastbone, his stomach, and Rodney's holding his breath because there is no way that John is actually going to put his mouth on Rodney's cock. But he does, and Rodney's eyes roll back in his head. It takes ever last bit of willpower not to go off like a rocket in John's mouth.

"John," Rodney says, not sure what he wants to say, or if he wants to say anything. He stares down at John crouched in front of the tub, and has the urge to give him pointers. "John, you should kneel," Rodney says softly, "and put a hand on me so you don't accidentally choke yourself."

John doesn't even look up. He drops from crouching to kneeling with ridiculous grace, and then he puts a hand on Rodney's hip, which does steady him, actually, but – "I meant, you should put a hand here," he circles the base of his cock to demonstrate, "and –"

John follows the direction to the letter, taking Rodney's cock in hand, and then taking him deeper into his mouth. Once he realizes he's not going to gag himself, he starts sucking Rodney in earnest, and Rodney knows he's not going to last. He tries to think about what to do but concentrating is impossible, so he shoves John off right before he comes. "Off, off!" Rodney says, pushing on his shoulder. John falls back on his ass, looking angry and hurt and confused, and Rodney comes into his hand, cupped over the head to contain the mess and guide it into the bathtub.

"I didn't want to come in your mouth," Rodney says, and the hurt becomes more pronounced on John's face. "It's _rude_ , John," Rodney huffs, and now John looks guilty. "If we'd talked about it before, maybe." John still looks hurt and confused and now Rodney thinks embarrassment might be creeping in too.

Rodney sighs. "I'm sorry. That was –" he waves a hand around stupidly "– great, thank you, please do it again as soon as possible and I will come in your mouth or all over your face or anywhere you want me to."

That startles a laugh out of John, and Rodney rolls his eyes, back on track. "Come on, you're all wet now, might as well shower with me."

+++++

The last night around the fire pit is a free-for-all. It starts with dinner, some more of the almost-pig that's been on the spit all day, and continues into building the fire pit back up to the gigantic fire of the first day. They place piles of wood in between the smaller fires and build a circle around them each person with a small tree trunk in their hands. When they all lean them in to the middle to meet it looks like a giant wooden teepee frame. The flames start to lick the long pieces of wood, and within fifteen minutes, the bonfire is back to its former glory.

John goes to get them plates of meat and bread and vegetables, and Rodney fills up the mug with water. He's going to keep control of the mug – there is no way he's going to let John try to get drunk again. They sit on one of the logs with their plates on their knees, picking at things with their fingers, eating in companionable silence.

John finishes his first and sets the plate on the ground near his feet. He picks up the mug for a drink and when he's done, he gives Rodney an annoyed look. "Got stuff to clean our hands with, I see," he says, pouring it over his greasy fingers.

"Hey!" Rodney says, reaching for it. "I like drinking water. What's wrong with you, are you twelve?"

John hands it over and Rodney gulps down the last couple of swallows left.

"Great, I'll get some wine," John says, but Rodney makes a grab for his leg.

"John," he warns.

John puts on stubborn face and gets in close to Rodney, whispering, "I am giving you permission right now for whatever happens tonight."

Rodney blinks in surprise, and he can feel his mouth drop open.

"I need some help if we're going to talk about stuff later," John says. "It's not easy just… saying stuff."

Rodney tries not to grin, but he's pretty sure it means he's just making funny faces.

"I mean," John says, rolling his eyes, "for me."

Rodney gives up and smiles at John. "Not drunk, okay?"

John nods, and when he comes back with the mug, the ruus wine is watered down just the way Rodney likes it.

+++++

The dancing is even more fun tonight; there's a certain comfortableness that seeps in after this long off-world. Evan smiles, in the way that reminds Rodney how young he really isn't, as he and Radek do the twist and the mashed potato, the pair of them grinning at each other like idiots. John is just as noticeably different, a strange combination that's the antithesis of his dichotomy on Atlantis.

On Atlantis, he's either twelve or two hundred. Either he's taking care of the whole city and all her inhabitants or he's put that all away for a few brief moments to race radio-controlled cars or play with Torren or lounge around playing video games and eating Doritos.

Here, he's John – clearly in his forties, but relaxed. Happy. Smiling not because he's shutting down to grab some R&R but because he's opening up to just be himself for a change. He's different, this John. Rodney likes to think he'll have a long time to figure out all the facets of John's personality, but he'd like to keep this one around. The idea that they might retire somewhere in Pegasus floats by again. Rodney thinks he'll have to start making lists, if that's the case. And build something more than a log cabin to live in.

John must see his thoughtfulness, and he stops the lopsided waltz they're doing and puts his hands on Rodney's shoulders. "Everything okay?" he asks, and it's funny, that Rodney can tell that the worry on his face is simple concern; he thinks Rodney might have a headache or want more water. Rodney shakes his head and gives John a grin.

"Just thinking. I could live here, I think."

"Where? Athos?" John looks puzzled, but not in an unhappy sort of way.

"Maybe," Rodney says. "Or maybe somewhere else in Pegasus, as long as they had a few essentials and I could keep in touch with Jeannie."

John hums, looking up at the sky. "I hadn't thought about it."

"Well, maybe you should," Rodney says, looking around them at their friends and family. Teyla is dancing the four square thing with Kanaan, Jinto, and Halling, all of them smiling and happy. Ronon and Amelia are slow dancing on the far side of the fire, Amelia's head resting on Ronon's chest. Evan and Radek are being chased around by a group of Cabyssian kids, playing some kind of tag/hide-and-seek hybrid. Chuck is dancing with Enia – and Rodney probably should've noticed that earlier, but he's been a little preoccupied.

"Less thinking," John says, pulling Rodney off to the side and making him drink some wine. "More dancing."

+++++

They dance for several hours, Rodney feeling happier than he can remember. Watching John smile and laugh his honking laugh makes him feel like he is the luckiest damn bastard in two galaxies. He never thought he would have this, never thought he would have the time to figure it out.

They drink wine and water and more wine and eventually end up slow dancing like Ronon and Amelia, and by the time that's happened everyone else has split off into pairs as well, either around the fire or back to their cabins for a last night before the festival is over.

John's humming something in Rodney's ear, something he doesn't recognize, but something that feels familiar all the same. Rodney hadn't expected John to do this, to be a couple in public. He supposes it isn't public, not really. It's still family here. Things will be different when they set foot back on Atlantis.

That's enough for Rodney to want to go back to his little hut and make the most of their last night on Athos. "Home?" he asks, breaking away to grab the mug.

"Yeah," John answers, taking a sip of water. "Let's."

+++++

John links his hand in Rodney's while they walk home, just like he did when they came through the gate. It's a new experience. Rodney does too much with his hands; they're always moving, especially when he's talking and he's always talking. He has to rethink his idea about John being the one with an aversion to hand-holding.

They don't speak as they stroll back home. John waves to friends as they pass or go into their cabins. Rodney doesn't wave, but he's got the mug in one hand and John in the other, so it'd be awkward. They get to their cabin and go in, and Rodney's suddenly nervous.

He hasn’t been nervous this whole time. He's a little frustrated with the amount of initiative it's taken on his part, and the degree of difficulty John's provided – somehow he expected Sheppard to be more naturally sexually adventurous – but he hasn't been nervous. Maybe it's just because for once, John seems calm.

They get to the cabin and John takes a seat at the table, hands folded in front of him. "I'm going to –"

"– brush your teeth," John finishes for him. "I know."

Rodney takes a second to close his mouth and then turns around to grab his toothbrush and toothpaste. John's toothbrush is in the cup next to the sink, too. He doesn't know if he noticed it before, but it must have been there since that second day. He doesn't know when John brushes his teeth but it hasn't been before bed. "You should brush your teeth too," Rodney says. "It's easier when both of us taste like toothpaste."

John laughs. "Easier?"

"Less disgusting," Rodney amends.

"Fine," John says, standing up and coming over to the sink. He grabs his brush and sticks it in his mouth.

"Wait, you don't have any toothpaste!" Rodney says, and John grins.

"I don't travel with it," John says. "Too many messy toothpaste accidents. Brushing is good enough."

"No, no, no!" Rodney exclaims. "You can have some of mine."

"I had no idea you had such strong opinions about oral hygiene," John says, but he holds the brush out for Rodney to put toothpaste on it. They brush together, John watching Rodney, probably to determine how long he should be brushing. It's like he's never been taught how to brush his teeth.

They spit and swish and spit some more, and rinse their brushes under the trickle of water. Rodney's going to have to check on the water delivery systems – they should have better pressure than this. When they finish and both toothbrushes are back in the cup, Rodney has a moment of panic at not knowing what to do with himself.

"Relax, Rodney," John says, pulling his shirt over his head. "I promise I won't do anything you don't want me to."

"Oh, ha ha," Rodney says, but kicks off his shoes and pulls off his shirt. He follows John's lead, taking off each piece of clothing as John does, pants, socks, his undershirt (since John doesn't wear them, and Rodney probably should have known that. Shouldn't he?), and their boxers, and then they're standing halfway to the bed with no clothes on. John is looking at him, his eyes tracing over Rodney's shoulders, chest, cock. He does the same with John; he's seen it all before, and up close and personal over the last several days, but it's different seeing John just standing there. This is the man under the tac vest, the man that saves Rodney's life on a regular basis.

"I need you to tell me what to do," John says.

"I don't know what you want," Rodney says. "I –"

"Rodney," John says, looking Rodney straight in the eye. "That is what I want. I want you to tell me what to do."

"But John –"

"Rodney."

Rodney shuts up, waiting for John to say more. John looks at him. "If we can stick to what we've done so far, you can tell me to do anything. New things – let's talk about it after. It's easier then. Okay?"

"Okay." Rodney nods. "Why –"

"Talking after," John says.

"Okay." Rodney sighs, looking John up and down. He points to the bed. "Lie down." John rolls his eyes, but he does what he's told. "Scoot over, I have to get on there too," Rodney says.

"You don't have to tell me to do everything," John chides, grabbing Rodney's arm and tumbling him onto the bed.

"How do I know –"

"You'll figure it out." John pulls Rodney half on top of him, stretching up to kiss him. They've kissed several times now, but they've never taken their time and just made out. Rodney's always been impatient with kissing; it's always seemed like it was the appetizer or prelude or whatever comes before the main event. With John it _is_ the main event - he wants to lie half on top of John and link their hands together and kiss and kiss and kiss. John knows what he's doing, with kissing. There's no hesitation or uncertainty. John gets annoyed with having to reach up to meet Rodney and pushes him onto his back. Rodney happily rolls with it, grabbing John's hips and yanking him up until he's lying on top of Rodney. It's different, but a good different. Rodney spreads his legs to let John sink down onto him, and the rub of John's hair against him is weirdly satisfying.

John starts to move; his cock is nestled in the crook of Rodney's thigh and groin and they've started sweating at some point, so there's a slick little glide of John's cock next to his balls.

"Fuck," John says, gasping as he breaks off a kiss. "Fuck, that's good."

Rodney's cock perked up as soon as John was on top of him - it approves of this new development immensely. The only thing is it's not getting any attention. John's pushing up, holding himself up above Rodney, still trying to kiss him in the midst of his erratic sliding. "John," Rodney says, and John lifts his head and looks down at Rodney. "Put your hand on my cock."

John looks confused for a second. Both his hands are on the bed, holding him up. Rodney tugs on his left arm, trying to get him to lift it off the bed. John shifts his weight, making him cockeyed, but it works, and then John's hand is on him, and the vague sort of thrill that's been building coalesces into the heat of John's hand and the fact that John licked his lips as he worked out the way to be able to do it, and Rodney will never be able to look at John doing that again without a hard-on.

John's fumbling, doing his best to give Rodney a handjob with a strange angle and while he's got all his weight on his other arm. While Rodney appreciates the effort, he's moved past the romance and into practical problem solving to reach orgasms for both of them as soon as humanly possible, so he uses John's precarious balance against him and rolls him onto his back, lining up their cocks and nudging John to grab his, too. When John doesn't get it, he rasps, "Both of us, John, come on," and John gets with the program and wraps his hand around them both. From this position, Rodney can fuck into John's hand, and John can too; at first it's a disorganized jumble, but they settle into a rhythm after a couple of thrusts. It doesn't take long for Rodney to be on the verge of coming, but he wants John to come first. He wonders if that's something he can tell John to do.

"Come for me, John," he says. John's eyes snap open and he stares at Rodney with the kind of look Rodney imagines he has when he wakes to a threat; aware of his surroundings, assessing, concentrating. Rodney presses in and says, "Come on," and John's eyes close. Rodney would almost wonder if he was imagining things, but John tilts his hips a fraction, and suddenly they're catching just a little as they pass, and John's breathing speeds up.

"That's it," Rodney says, "Come for me."

John does. He comes all over himself, and Rodney, and for a second everything is even slicker between them, and that's so blindingly hot, Rodney comes too. "Fuck," he says, and he can feel John laughing in the rumble of his chest. "Not funny," he mumbles, rolling off John and onto his back. "You broke me."

"That's what breaks you?" John says, laughing again. His laugh is atrocious, Rodney realizes, and he loves it, the honking donkey sound.

"Shut up and get something to clean this mess up with," Rodney says. John laughs again and sits up, leaning over the edge of the bed to snag the boxers lying there. He wipes himself off and hands them over to Rodney. "Thanks," Rodney says acidly, but wipes himself off and throws them off the bed.

"True story," John says, shoving Rodney further onto the bed and somehow curling around him. "I like to snuggle."

Rodney had never expected to be the inside spoon in a snuggle like this, but it's not uncomfortable, and he has a feeling John has things to say, things he can't say directly to Rodney's face. "John Sheppard, snuggler," Rodney says, and John laughs and brings his thighs up, bumping them up against Rodney's ass.

Rodney slows his breathing, trying to hear if John takes a sharp breath that means he's going say something. He's been waiting for it, but he's not afraid; it's not like it was at the end with Jennifer, where every time she spoke he worried that was it, she was finally going to break up with him. He lets out a short, dark laugh. Eventually he brought it up because he was tired of being on edge all the time, and she looked as relieved as he did.

"What?" John asks.

"Nothing," Rodney says, because he's not about to tell John that he was thinking about Jennifer during their afterglow, even if it was a favorable comparison. "What are you thinking?"

John sighs, the breath hot on Rodney's nape, and says, "I love you."

"Jesus christ, Sheppard," Rodney says, trying to control his heartbeat, which kicked up to bad-for-his-blood-pressure levels at the sound of John's voice. "You don't pull any punches."

John shrugs. "You know when you were talking about retiring in the Pegasus galaxy?"

"Yeah?"

"I realized that I didn't care where I retired as long as you were there."

Rodney's heart is going nonstop now, there's nothing for it. He knows he should tell John he loves him too, but the words stick in his throat. He isn't one for declarations like that; words have never meant that much to him anyway. "Me too," he says, finally.

The arm John has slung over Rodney's waist tightens. "Should we talk about something less embarrassing? Sex?"

"Oh god, yes, please," Rodney says. "Tell me what the change was."

"I just did," John says, and Rodney wants to roll his eyes, but John has always faced things straight on; once he's made a decision, everything that follows is easy.

"Tell me what else you want," Rodney says.

John shrugs again. "Everything."

"You're infuriating, you know that," Rodney says. "You want me to list things off?"

"Sure," John says. "Why not."

"I want to fuck you," Rodney says, because the first thing that comes to mind is John tied up and on his knees. John doesn't say anything, so Rodney continues. "I know that will take some time, and you've… You haven't been fucked before, have you?"

"No," John says. "With Brian, I…"

"You were on top."

"Yes," John says, burrowing into the pillow. Rodney can feel John's breath on his ear now. John doesn't say any more and Rodney takes it as a no for the time being.

"Do you want to fuck me?" Rodney asks. He's switchier than most of the guys he's been with; he likes topping and he likes bottoming and which he prefers depends on the situation.

"Yeah," John says. "I think so." His voice has gotten softer, but he's talking right into Rodney's ear, and it's strangely intimate.

"Good," Rodney says. "Because that's something I want, too."

John's thighs nudge his ass again, and Rodney smiles. "I liked tying you up. Did you like that?"

"Yeah," John said. "That was good. And the biting."

"What about watching you masturbate?" Rodney asks. He'd love to direct John to touch himself. John's silent, so Rodney marks it in his 'maybe later' list along with fucking John and goes on to the next thing.

"Pictures?"

John's still quiet. For half a second, Rodney wonders if he's going to have a lot of vanilla sex for the rest of his life, and then John breathes heavily in his ear, a half-snore. Rodney huffs out half a laugh, and John pulls Rodney in closer, his mouth right against Rodney's neck.

"Good night, asshole."

+++++

The final ceremonies are as informal as the opening ones. Halling says a blessing over them all and wishes them safe passage home and then they mill around, passing out their harvest gifts to friends, old and new. Rodney hands out his charms (made out of dead ancient crystals), and watches John schmooze everyone they know or have met. He can tell John's supremely pleased with the gifts he's handing out. Pens, even crappy ones, are remarkably valuable in Pegasus. Ordering a couple hundred good ones was an easy way to buy loyalty among friends and allies. John gives Enia four, and she lights up like he's given her a diamond necklace.

They've got two bags full of gifts from their friends, missions planned for the next several months, and an invitation for Rodney to guest judge to the Cabyssian cooking contest that sounds like Iron Chef. Chuck got an invite to cook; apparently the Cabyssians stopped by his omelet station.

Teyla is staying on Athos to help with the cleanup, so she walks the Lantean contingent to the gate, dialing for them and waving as they all go through. "Don't forget we're going to Warageina in four days," John yells back at her.

She grins and makes a shooing motion at them. Rodney's about to step through the gate when John grabs his hand, tangling their fingers together. "Might as well make a show of it," he says, walking into the event horizon and pulling Rodney with him.

+++++

**Author's Note:**

> This all came from misreading a professional email I received. It was about biobanking, but my fannish, sleep-deprived brain read: _Learn the Legal and Compliance Issues of Cockblocking_ and suddenly I wanted fic where Rodney sued John for cockblocking.
> 
> Thanks a zillion to my lovely cheerleaders and betas, the astounding [](http://meghanc.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**meghanc**](http://meghanc.dreamwidth.org/) and the amazing [](http://wintercreek.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**wintercreek**](http://wintercreek.dreamwidth.org/). Also, thank you to iadorespike for an early readthrough and cheering, and as always, [](http://soleta.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**soleta**](http://soleta.dreamwidth.org/) for tolerating my whining and helping me talk through all my stumbling blocks. Any mistakes left are my own, do not blame any of these good folk for my issues.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for kisahawklin's "Truth, Justice, and the Lantean Way"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/251466) by [omg_wtf_yeah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/omg_wtf_yeah/pseuds/omg_wtf_yeah)
  * [Art and Fanmix for "Truth, Justice, and the Lantean Way"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/251793) by [gblvr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gblvr/pseuds/gblvr)
  * [Deleted Scenes from Truth, Justice, and the Lantean Way](https://archiveofourown.org/works/253205) by [kisahawklin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kisahawklin/pseuds/kisahawklin)




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